


Call it even

by Royal_Ermine



Series: Stark Tower [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, British English, British Stucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Kid Fic, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Steve Rogers, Past Child Abuse, Physical Disability, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Religion, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-03 15:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12751470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Ermine/pseuds/Royal_Ermine
Summary: Steve and Bucky, now a happily married couple with a family, face terrible danger from a malevolent former employee at Stark Tower. Can Steve protect his family, and can his family survive his attempts to protect them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arxiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arxiver/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the "Stark Tower" series as promised! Reading Part 1 (Predictions) isn't necessary to understand this, but if you'd like to, then please feel free to enjoy it.

Steve guessed he had heard the low thrum of conversation from the floor below for several minutes, but it was difficult to gauge time when you were gently ebbing your way back from a fitful night’s sleep. He didn’t feel brave enough to open a bleary eye to consult the alarm clock: hell it could be pretty much any time of morning. He could have overslept, unlikely though that might be. Alternatively it could be one of those ass-end of dawn Christmas-type mornings when the kids just wouldn’t stay in their beds no matter how desperately you pleaded with them.

A shriek of laughter from the kitchen finally jolted him awake. 7:52 AM. Not bad, not bad at all, for a Sunday. He made a mental note to do something extra nice for Bucky to thank him for taking the kids in hand to let him sleep. Cleaning up after Leo’s vomit in the early hours when he’d finally confessed to drinking all the “lumpy” milk had really wiped him out. As it happened, it must really have wiped Leo out too, for, as he tried to sit up, he felt the pressing weight of his ten year old son snuggled and snoring softly against his left arm. He hadn’t noticed before, because Leo must have been pressing on a nerve, and Steve’s arm remained asleep, even though clearly the rest of him no longer was. Gently he extricated himself from Leo’s grip and shambled giddily towards the bathroom.

Almost immediately, a stab of pain coursed through his foot. His youngest, four year old Suzanne (though she now preferred Suzy), had discarded one of her doll’s hair-brushes out on the landing and Steve had stepped sole-first onto its razor-sharp spikes. Holding his breath to stem the curses, he stumbled, now with a throbbing foot and a barely functioning arm, towards his destination. If he hadn’t felt such a pressing urgency to his bladder, he didn’t think he would even have bothered.

He’d suggested getting an en suite for their master bedroom, but neither he nor Bucky had the time right now to go and collect ideas and quotes ready for a remodelling. They’d had the house for over three years now, ever since the adoption papers had come through, but they’d barely done a thing to the place in all that time. They were just glad of the space for their three little monsters.

As if on cue, their oldest daughter, seven year old Clara was in full roar when Steve finally made it downstairs to the kitchen, dressed comfortably in sweat pants and a tee. Bucky, on the other hand, was smartly bedecked in a gold plaid jacket, taupe chinos and an appropriately sober shirt and tie set.

Steve put his hand to his mouth in an effort not to burst out laughing. “See you’re wearing your “house-coat” again?” he smirked. Indeed, Bucky had topped this conservative ensemble with a totally incongruous looking three-quarter length floral polyester smock with enormous clown-like buttons up the front.

“Hey, don’t knock it. It’s a very practical garment!”

Both Steve and Bucky had suffered brutal childhood trauma at the hands of their abusive fathers. Over the years, they’d tentatively shared, wept, embraced and so sought to gradually dislodge the shame of their nightmarish pasts. They learned to love again, with an intimacy so fragile and precious, that the penetrative act seemed no more than a base appetite which neither felt inclined to inflict on the other. One of Bucky’s few sunny childhood memories occurred during school holiday visits to his great aunt Nora, who had donned her house-coat to complete daily housekeeping tasks, preventing grit, grime and grease from getting all over her nice summer dresses. So, when Bucky spotted just such a garment being practically given away in a charity shop, he had lunged for it like a thing possessed. Steve could see the practical applications – it even had pockets so Bucky could tote his cleaning materials around as he worked, but it was so stereotypical 1950’s housewife that he couldn’t resist pulling Bucky’s leg mercilessly whenever he assumed his great aunt’s frilly mantle.

Clara put one hand on her hip and used the other to wag an admonishing finger at Steve. “You’re very mean to Mama, Papa Steve”, she scolded “At least he’s dressed for church. You’re still not ready”

“Dang, I completely forgot”

“You say that every time” said Clara, rolling her eyes

“It’s okay” smiled Bucky, handing Steve a cup of coffee and a round of hot buttered toast. Leo still isn’t feeling very well. I’ll take the girls if you’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Of course I will, Baby”

“Ick, boys and their lovey-dovey talk” Clara groaned

“I know, I know” agreed Bucky “Much better to be a dinosaur, right, sweetie?”

Clara began her terrifying roars again and dashed around the kitchen table in circles.

“Hey, Bucky. Thanks for letting me sleep in.” murmured Steve combing his fingers through Bucky’s lustrous chestnut hair, in the few moments that their daughter was distracted “I owe you one”

“Call it even” smiled Bucky

“You always say that, Baby” said Steve, pulling Bucky onto his lap and giving him a light kiss

“And I mean it too, Stevie. You do know this…well…all of this, it’s my dream come true, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Baby, but it’s my dream come true too. You’re my dream come true”

“Eeeek, Mama, Papa…you’re eating each other again” yelled Suzy, now standing at the door in a bright yellow dress, the very picture of innocence, yet dragging her poor long-suffering teddy along by the ear.

“Come here, sweet girl” said Steve. “Let’s have a group hug”

As Bucky edged off, Suzy clambered on to Steve’s now very warm knee and Bucky hugged them both.

“Super-dinosaur!” yelled Clara, hurling herself onto everyone in a big pile of crazy mixed-up family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

“Good morning Bucky”, greeted Reverend Geraldine Grainger as the little family prodded and tugged their way through the church door. “No Leo to help you out today, huh?”

“Sadly, no” replied Bucky “He’s been at the bad food again”

Geraldine knew what that meant, she’d ministered to them for the three years since they became a family, and Leo hadn’t quite got out of all his habits. When they’d lived with their real mum, she’d sometimes be too drunk to notice that the food in the fridge had gone bad, and Leo had worked out that pointing that out to her, when “Stepfather” (as he insisted on being called) was within earshot, usually resulted in a brutal beating.

“Stepfather” was Leo’s living nightmare. He hated both him and Clara for not being his real children. He called them rats, worms, parasites but, worst of all to him, he’d called them bastards – not worthy of even being part of the family. Little Suzanne was just a baby then. Leo didn’t resent her, but he did wish their real dad was still alive and able to stop the kicks, punches, slaps and the regular humiliations he piled on his stepchildren.

Nor did he really care anything for Suzanne either. She was “just a girl”, he would say, sneering at his mum. Mum got the beatings bad too, probably worse as they happened at night as well as during the day.

“Stepfather” didn’t allow the kids to have anything nice of their own. If they got any presents, he’d take them away immediately, or worse still, let them play a few minutes and then take them away. Leo wasn’t sure what he did with them, but he figured he was just doing it to be mean. The only book he didn’t take out of their sparse little bedroom was the Gideon Bible that was practically glued into the inside drawer of the wonky bedside table “Stepfather” had been given for free from the fire sale of a nearby hotel.

Leo would read the Bible stories to Clara; the nice ones that is, to help soothe her to sleep when “Stepfather” was at home and they were both nervous he’d come into their room, angry-drunk. When “Stepfather” knifed mum to death, Leo felt that he had let her down by not protecting her enough, even though he was barely seven years old at the time and unable to protect even himself. Still, he had insisted to Clara that it was his fault, and that it was his responsibility to find all of them a new mum.

In the event, that wasn’t so easy. Three badly traumatised children weren’t the most appealing of prospects to most potential adopters. Suzy would have been easy enough to adopt had she been on her own, but Leo was calling the shots on this one, and he’d made it quite clear that it was all three of them or none at all.

However, the solution, when it came, had surprised even him. When Bucky and Steve came to see them, Leo was shocked by his own feelings. They were both men of course, but Bucky’s voice and mannerisms were so soft and gentle that he felt like his mum had come back to comfort them. He didn’t really want a new stepdad, not after “Stepfather”, but Steve was so nice and treated him with genuine respect. He explained that it was entirely Leo’s choice and that he greatly admired how he had fought to keep his family together in the adoption home. However, he explained that, just as the three of them were a unit that couldn’t be split up, so too were Bucky and him, a unit that Leo could choose to either take or to leave.

It didn’t harm that Clara really liked them both and agreed with her brother that Bucky did indeed remind her of their mum. Suzanne really liked Steve, but then she’d never had to experience a bad man hurting her the way he and Clara had. Still, “little Suzy” as Steve called her - much to her evident delight - seemed to need a father figure in her life, and Leo thought it would be wrong of him to deny that to her just because he didn’t particularly like the idea of it himself.

In the end, they agreed to trial an adoption on a single condition that all three children insisted upon. Bucky and Steve couldn’t be called “mum” and “dad” or any form of “step” because those words were bad and scary now. Instead, Bucky got to be “Mama” and Steve got to be “Papa”. Steve and Bucky solemnly agreed to the terms, and the rest…well, the rest was history.

A few months into the adoption, Leo had asked if he could be baptised. His real dad hadn’t ever thought to do that and it would have been pointless asking “Stepfather”, but after his evening Bible readings with Clara, Leo felt it was important for him to be part of a church, instead of just reading about it. Naturally, Clara and Suzy didn’t want to feel left out, so Bucky was left with the unenviable task of finding an LGBT friendly church in their area that would be happy to not only baptise, but welcome the entire family through their doors on a regular basis.

Bucky was genuinely impressed. He didn’t have to perch on an uncomfortable pew trying to be all polite with his family. He didn’t even need to dress up (although he liked to, so that he could dress his kids up too and feel all proud about how good they looked) Geraldine’s church had a comfortable and welcoming family area with clean, attractive toys to play with and a selection of picture books, both Biblical and Disney, although he had noted – with a wry smile – that even the Biblical books were becoming Disneyfied these days.

Steve didn’t come with them every week. Sometimes there was urgent paperwork to complete for their employer, Stark Corporation, which kept his workaholic husband at home. Other times, like this Sunday, Steve had a sick kid to look after. But “Mama” Bucky never had to worry, because the other parishioners could always be relied on to help out if the kids ever threatened to get totally out of hand.

For the first part of the service, the kids were certainly verging on the unmanageable. Clara’s current dinosaur phase (whether inspired by a school project or her unaccountable fondness for clunky 1960’s Japanese monster movies) meant a lot of clumsy stomping about pretending to be Godzilla and breathing fire on the hapless parishioners up and down the nearby aisles, loudly cheered on by Suzy. She looked up to her big sister in much the same the way that Bucky’s sister had looked up to him when he was growing up. Becca had been the brave one, launching into all sorts of mischief that she dragged her usually very willing big brother into. And so it proved with Clara too; both were unrepentant Tomboys.

One of the counsellors attached to their case had suggested that Clara was probably trying to please Leo by copying his tough and protective attitude, but that this might change now that their real mother had tragically lost her life. Bucky wasn’t so sure, nor did he especially care. Psychoanalysing children seemed heedlessly cruel to him, like pulling the wings off butterflies to find out how they worked. Over the years he and Steve had shared their own traumas in quite intimate detail. Despite Steve’s initial reluctance to disclose and bring up bad memories for his husband, actually their stories turned out to be pretty similar. Their fathers had both resorted to rape as the ultimate form of cruel manipulation and control, shaming other family members into silence. Bucky was determined that no-one would be getting into his adopted kid’s heads – not him, not Steve and least of all not some complete stranger in a white coat with a clipboard making them feel like bizarre laboratory experiments. No, what the kids needed was love, and Bucky was determined that, with Steve by his side, they were going to get it.

 

-*-

 

Dr Erskine, Bucky’s workplace boss in the breathtakingly scenic Stark Corporation library on the top floor of Stark Tower gave them all a lift home. He lived very close to the church and, despite being Jewish himself, had nodded earnestly through Bucky’s relation of Leo’s request to be baptised and offered his wholehearted support “Not the brand of religion I’d choose off the shelves myself”, he’d quipped with a knowing smile “But much rather that than none. We all of us need God’s love.”

It was strangely fitting then, that, once they’d driven for about five minutes, Suzy piped up “Mama, what’s an untouchable?”

Despite Leo not being there that morning, Clara had respected his “rule” that they stopped playing and listened once the” food and drink” came out. Bucky wrinkled his forehead and thought back. Yes, the communion prayer did indeed include the line “He [Jesus] touched untouchables with love”

Oh boy, this wasn’t going to be easy. Abraham Erskine flashed him an amused look that clearly said “It’s your faith: you’re on your own, buddy” and focused on the traffic.

Bucky exhaled the breath he’d not realised he’d been holding in since Suzy asked her question and ventured “Well you know, sweetie, the Bible was written a very long time ago, and lots of people who we’re happy to know and be with today were looked on as different or bad back then”

“Yeah? Such as?” Suzy persisted

“Well, such as disabled people, or people who were sick. Back then, they didn’t have good doctors or hospitals so people’s sickness got worse, and some of that sickness would get spread around to others, like what happens when one of us has a cold and it spreads to everyone?”

“I know” said Suzy, nodding sagely

“Well, Jesus didn’t stop loving people because they were sick or had things wrong with them. He didn’t avoid them like a lot of other people did because he was afraid he’d get the disease that they had.”

“That’s right, he cured them” piped up Clara “But…but Mama, if we all follow Jesus, how come we can’t cure people?”

Dr Erskine raised an eyebrow. Bucky was unsure what the right answer was, if indeed there was a right answer, so he decided to speak from the heart.

“Well, I think the things Jesus did were signs to show people that he was God’s son. None of us are Jesus, so we can’t cure people in that kind of way. But we have doctors and nurses that help people to get better, don’t we?”

“Yes, but not everyone gets better” Clara protested

“No…no sweetheart, they don’t” agreed Bucky, sadly “Sometimes people get really sick, but you know, sometimes they don’t need or want to be “cured” anyway”

“How come?”

“Well, if you’re deaf you can use sign language to talk to people. Now, if you and all your friends are deaf, sign together and have lots of fun, then you might not want to be “cured” and made to hear if it means you can’t sign and be with your friends any more. So some deaf people don’t want to be anyone else. They’re just happy being the way God made them.”

“Like you and papa” added Clara

“How do you mean, honey?”

“Well you and papa love each other, and you don’t want to be anyone else. You’re happy being the way God made you too”

Bucky flashed his daughter a delighted smile. She got it. So few grown-ups did from years of trying to figure it out, but she got it.

“Does that mean you’re an….an “untouchable” too, Mama?” asked Suzy, wide-eyed with innocent concern

Bucky swallowed down the pain and thought for a moment, then decided actions were louder than words. He hoisted Suzy up onto his knee and wrapped his arms around her. “Nope” he said “I’d say we were all pretty touchable, don’t you think?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

“Come in, the door’s open”

Steve rarely received visitors. Even as head of accountancy, he wasn’t exactly a big draw, and the members of staff he managed weren’t in the least bit afraid of him, as they had been with his evil predecessor Thor Odinson. When he left his office door ajar, it was an open signal for them to sail right through, knowing he was more than happy to see them and answer any of their questions. A knock at the door, therefore, must mean either someone who didn’t know that (a visitor) or someone bearing bad news; perhaps an employee who’d made some terrible mistake. Not as if any mistake would be so terrible that Steve wouldn’t be able to help them with it – he wasn’t the pedantic workaholic of his past Bucky-deprived life any more.

“Nat?”

Natasha Romanov of Human Resources stuck her head round the door. Recently appointed Head of the Department, “Nat” was one of Steve’s dearest friends at the company; a lady who he’d recommended for permanent tenure in the London office, and who had more than reciprocated by exposing Thor’s diabolical plans against him. Nat surely knew Steve had an open door policy. So why had she knocked?

“Something tells me this isn’t a social call, Nat?” he asked, grimly

“Am I that transparent?” she oozed

“As a bottle of vodka” he quipped back

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?”

“No, I was expecting you to stand to attention in my office, babushka. What do you think?” Steve kicked an easy chair in her direction.

“Ever the little Napoleon” muttered Nat, settling in the chair

“Hey! Didn’t he nearly freeze to death on the way to Moscow?”

“It was coming back from Moscow, my history-deficient little calculator”

Steve chuckled. “All right” he said at length “No more laughter, prepare for tears. What’s up, Nat?”

Nat pursed her lips “I’m sure you’re aware that Stark Corporation has an extensive network of “intelligence gatherers?”

“Oh, is that what we call them?” snorted Steve

“Yeah, well, the Americans never were terribly good at euphemisms” she shrugged “Anyway, they’ve been on alert ever since Tony started receiving some very unpleasant and explicit anonymous emails”

“Nasty” Steve sympathised “Traceable?”

“Too heavily encrypted sadly, but some of our analysts suspect that the vocabulary and sentence construction indicates the writer might be of…ahem…Scandinavian extraction?”

“If you’re thinking, what I think you’re thinking” mused Steve “Then Thor’s getting awfully ambitious in his hatred.”

“Agreed” said Nat “We’ve upped the protection around Tony of course, but I can’t imagine Thor posing anything even approaching a threat to the great man himself.”

Steve nodded, realisation dawning on him “You think he’s going to have a crack at me, huh?”

“Well, it’s a more logical move, assuming the man has any logic left in his delusional mind. You’re far more vulnerable sitting here in an unprotected office with…”

“The kids!” Steve shot to his feet, his shoulders squared for action “I gotta call Bucky. We need to get home RIGHT NOW”

Nat held her hands out “No, NO, Steve. Please”

“What?”

“We already took care of that. Security’s assigned plain clothes guards to their schools and your home. Honestly, Steve. They’re safe. I promise you, they’re safe…they’re SAFE okay?”

Steve found it difficult to listen. All he could think was that Bucky’s babies were in danger; that they needed their Mama and Papa right now. Though still the short and undeveloped man he’d always been, Steve felt an almost primal responsibility for the safety of his whole family. And the thought that any one of them might be in danger, worse still, put in danger because of him, sent the blood pulsing through his brain so intensely, he could hear the whooshing sound in his ears.

Nat gently gripped his arm. He looked down

“Whu...?”

“It’s okay, Steve. You’re my best friend. I PROMISE you, they’re safe. I kinda figured you wouldn’t believe me, so I’ve arranged for you to have the rest of the day off. “Compassionate leave” I think they call it. You’ve got weeks of it you’ve never taken. I think we can spare you the afternoon, don’t you?

“Thanks Nat” he gasped

“And before you ask, yes your car’s been checked for safety but no I’m not letting you drive it home in your condition. I’ve got a driver, who I’ve thoroughly checked out, ready to drive you and Bucky home in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”

Steve nodded, still stunned

“I guess you’ll want to know what happens next, yes?”

Steve nodded again, in wide-eyed silence.

Nat anticipated this reaction but it still didn’t prepare her for the reality of her friend’s panicked state. Steve really loved his family with every fibre of his being and this revelation was like a knife aimed at their hearts. Nat wasn’t particularly family-orientated, but Steve’s concern was so touching that she almost wished she valued something as passionately and desperately as Steve did with his family – dedicating himself wholly to their love, care and protection. Speaking calmly and slowly, so that Steve could completely understand, she explained

“Odinson’s being tailed. We have some of our top people on this. He can’t get within ten miles of the airport, your home, or Stark Tower for that matter, without the entire Stark operation being put on full alert. Just to be on the safe side, we’re having panic buttons installed in your home, this office and the library. You’ll have a chauffeur driven car with a double-checked driver every day until we’ve figured out what’s going on.”

Steve’s alert square-shoulder posture relaxed just a little. Nat suspected it would never fully relax until this present danger was thoroughly passed, though. She just hoped Thor’s instability would quickly cause him to make an error grave enough that the police could get involved. Hopefully that would give him second thoughts about trying anything stupid in the future.

“Rogers?”

“Yeah”

“Look…you’re one hell of a dad, okay? I’ll keep them safe, trust me. Bucky’s safe; your kids are safe; you’re safe. Just give us a few days; a week or two at the most and we’ll work out how to resolve this.”

-*-

Bucky was waiting for him in the back of the limo, his pallor clammy and his eyes wide as saucers. He’d never seen his husband look so consumed with terror.

“Dr Erskine told me. Take me home, Stevie” he begged

Steve pushed his fears down as deep as he could. Bucky was frightened enough for both of them already, and sensing Steve’s fear would just have intensified Bucky’s growing sense of panic. He had to hold it together for his family.

Taking Bucky’s hand and kissing it gently, he said “It’s okay, Baby. I’m on top of this. Everyone is going to be safe and sound okay?”

“Yes, that’s what Erskine said too” Bucky confirmed, but there was a tone of doubt to his voice

Steve gently kissed Bucky on his quivering lips and then, cradling his face in his palms, he explained

“We need the kids to feel safe, Bucky. This is all about perceptions. Nothing bad’s going to happen to any of us, I promise you on my life, but our kids have been through enough hell as it is without making a drama out of this crisis. We need to put on a united front, okay Baby?”

-*-

Half an hour later, Bucky was dramatically holding forth in the kitchen, clad in that shabby old house-coat, about how Stark Corporation had sent some of its parents home early to pilot an exciting new safety programme for the month.

“It’s really special” said Bucky with bright excitement “We get to try out new set of special toys to keep us all safe. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to take part in it, but then I thought, getting us home a bit earlier and having some cool new stuff set up in the house might be fun for all of us”

“I’d hardly call it cool, Mama” said Leo sceptically, clearly unimpressed by the red panic buttons under the kitchen counter and on their bedroom walls.

“Well, yes…you do have a point there, Leo” confessed Bucky “ It doesn’t look like very much, but if you ever feel unsafe, you can press it and the people from the company will come over immediately to check you’re okay”

“Really?” blinked Suzy “You mean we can just press this button and…”

“Only in emergencies, mind” warned Steve “Remember the story about the little boy who cried wolf?”

“But it’s not a wolf, it’s a teddy bear” protested Suzy petulantly, twirling her favourite stuffed toy around once more.

“And that’s not all” continued Bucky “We get this really cool car to drive you to and from school and playschool. It’s so much bigger than Papa’s ratty old car” he added, giving Steve a saucy look

“Awww, c’mon Mama, it’s not that bad” Steve protested

“It’s a wreck, and it smells of pigeon poop” mocked Bucky childishly “Why, you’d give my arm for a car as fancy-schmanzy as the one we’re getting this month!”

Steve wrinkled up his nose and pulled a face when Bucky wasn’t looking. The kids quickly picked up on their horseplay and once Clara dramatically directed her “hand on hip, finger wagging” routine at Papa, the whole family began to giggle infectiously. Without Bucky needing to say anything more, they were all piled up together in a tickling fight, which Steve lost as always, with good grace.

“Thanks Buck, he drawled in his husband’s ear as they extricated themselves from their pile of squirming excitable kids”

“Call it even, Stevie” smiled Bucky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

Nearly three weeks had passed. The security measures were becoming routine. Steve kept reminding himself that this was usually the time in the movie when complacency kicked in and something went horribly wrong. His shoulders never lost their alert pose, not even in bed. Bucky tried to massage the knots out of them, but to no avail, as his touch only sought to emphasise what it was that Steve could lose if he didn’t maintain his determined vigilance.

Mid-morning, after the kids were safely at their school desks, and Bucky was safely in the care of Dr Erskine, Steve heard the habitual tap at his door: a tap that occurred almost daily and that he was growing wearily accustomed to.

“Geez, Nat. Just come IN already”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me, Mr Grumpy Calculator. For all I knew, you could have been in the throes of a sickeningly gooey romantic tryst with that gorgeous library assistant upstairs.”

“You’ve been reading too much romantic fiction” came the deadpan reply

“Perish the thought” gasped Nat dramatically

“Besides, not on the company clock” smirked Steve “So, any news?”

Taking her usual seat, Nat casually answered “As a matter of fact, yes”

Steve’s shoulders squared again. He certainly wasn’t expecting this. Nat had been saying “no” with such tedious regularity that he was growing accustomed to the numb torture of negative or inconclusive Odinson updates.

“Well?”

“Thor took a black cab to Heathrow yesterday evening. He boarded a flight to Oslo one-way. Obviously we didn’t stop him.”

Steve’s forehead creased at the news “So…what exactly does that mean?”

“Well, he certainly can’t harm anyone from over there. Although we can’t monitor him with anything like the accuracy we could here, we do have the airports and ferry ports covered. He couldn’t very well get back without us knowing, and, so long as he stays in his country of origin, we’re all safe.”

“That does make me wonder why he bothered to send the emails to Mr Stark in the first place?”

“I can think of three good reasons right off the bat.” Nat replied, tapping a separate finger to exemplify each point. “Firstly, it frightened a lot of people that he doesn’t like with no danger to himself; secondly it cost the Stark Corporation a ton of money to beef up its security and thirdly…well thirdly, he’s a damn psychopath, Steve, so he’s crazy enough to do just about anything.”

“It all seems a bit extravagant to me” he sniffed, scratching the back of his neck as his shoulders released a few notches of tension “Maybe if…”

Steve never got the chance to finish his sentence.

He was interrupted by a deafening thunderclap, immediately followed by a violent shaking of the office walls, as if a tremendous earthquake had struck Stark Tower. Half of the strip light above him came loose from its fixings, landing on his desk with a lively crash.

“What the…”

Nat scrambled for the walkie-talkie in her inside pocket

“Security?”

The radio crackled to life with a nightmarish chorus of screams, curses and confused disembodied voices

“Security!” she snapped

Steve’s eyes widened

“Rogers, what the fuck?”

Steve sprinted headlong out of his office

“Not the lifts, goddamn it!” screamed Nat barrelling after him

Steve slowed. She was right. If something was wrong with the building, taking the lifts was a really bad idea.

Nat and Steve forced their way into the crowded stairwell, struggling to reach the security post two floors above against a torrent of distressed employees desperately rushing downstairs to safety.

Sam Wilson, one of the counsellors Bucky had spoken to during his first months with the company - when the trauma of past abuse still poisoned his future husband’s mind - slowed his descent when he saw Steve.

“Sam! Oh thank God. What the hell’s going on?”

“Shit, Steve” gasped Sam, looking shell-shocked “I wish to God I knew, buddy. It’s pandemonium up there. One minute I’m trying to calm down a hyperventilating client and the next? BOOM!”

Nat cocked her head at him “Kudos to your sound-effects Sam, but that’s not very helpful for us right now. Which floor were you on?”

“Thirty-five” Sam confirmed “It’d been a challenging session. I was going to head up to the library on forty to make notes and clear my head but…I guess I won’t be doing that any more…”

“Why’d you say that?” asked Nat

“I looked out the window just after the explosion. Y…Y’know what I saw?”

“What?” demanded Steve, impatiently

“Books, Steve…Goddamn burning books raining down everywhere…fuck, man….darndest thing you ever saw…all those books…in flames…”

Steve put a hand over his mouth and squeaked out a strangulated sob.

“We gotta get to security” yelled Nat, dragging Steve along with her. Sam stared back up at them, dazed and dumbfounded in the choked stairwell.

-*-

 

The security post was silent. Steve recognised the sole occupant: Logan, the tough deputy-head of surveillance. He wasn’t difficult to miss. A grizzled-looking ex-marine with a chest so broad he couldn’t squeeze into any of the short-sleeved shirts Stark Corporation had issued him with without looking indecent.

He nodded a wordless acknowledgement to Nat.

“You going to explain to me what’s going on?” she asked

“Better if I show you, ma’am” came the gruff reply

Logan led them to the CCTV array and punched up some footage. Steve watched as Dr Erskine took a seat on a computer workstation, whilst Bucky wheeled a book trolley towards the issue desk. Erskine said something, to which Bucky smiled and nodded, carrying an armful of books behind the desk…then the picture whited out in a sudden blinding flash, shook violently for a brief moment…and cut to static.”

After the conversation with Sam made her suspect the worst, Nat had wondered why Bucky hadn’t just reached for a panic button at the first sign of danger…

Now she understood.

He never had time.

He never even knew what hit him.

Steve’s eyes had glazed over. In that single cataclysmic moment, his fragile soul shattered into a million pieces. He made no sound; gave no reaction. His numbed desolation lay far beyond Nat’s reach. She couldn’t even begin to find an expression to match that depth of grief.

In the end, she settled for a shout-out loud “FUCK!!!”

“And that’s not the half of it” drawled Logan. He jabbed at the controls, bringing up footage of the roof helipad. One moment, everything looked perfectly normal, but in the next, the flat roof fractured from the centre like cracks spreading across in a frozen pond. The dislodged fragments levitated a few feet before lazily settling back down to form a scene not unlike that of the smouldering crater of an active volcano.

“Only the weight of the helipad concrete stopped the top of this whole building blowing off” Logan explained “Must have been some powerful shit, ma’am, to do that kinda damage.”

“I take it your team’s up there?”

“Yes, ma’am. But the stairwell’s blocked with rubble above thirty-nine. They’re working on it with the tools they have to hand until the professionals arrive”

“Well, it’s a fair bet we can’t use that damaged helipad to evacuate anybody trapped under there” conceded Nat.

“Ma’am” concluded Logan sadly “You’ve seen the footage. Short of a miracle, there’s no-one getting out of there alive.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Bucky didn’t feel brave enough to open a bleary eye to find out what had happened. Besides, he sensed darkness around him. Perhaps it had all been just a bad dream. He felt like there was a gentle weight pressed up all around him so maybe it was just Steve being extra loving and cradling him in his arms. Bucky loved it so much when he did that. Steve was so much smaller, but he prided himself in being able to stretch out like a human starfish so that he covered every little bit of Bucky. He could even hear his love’s breathing. He was safe. This was all some kind of weird dream.

“Stevie?”

“Sorry to disappoint you" came the hoarse voice of an old man

Bucky’s eyes flew open, but – just as he had expected – he could see nothing.

“Dr Erskine?”

“I’m afraid so” the librarian confirmed “Are you all right?”

“I…I don’t know, honestly, I…can’t feel anything on my left side. Everything’s gone funny and numb” his voice quavered

“You’re in shock, my boy” Erskine replied “Don’t worry. It’s not so bad. If you can’t feel anything, then you’re not hurting”

“Oh” said Bucky, simply “Are YOU all right?”

“I don’t think so” said Erskine “I think something heavy must have fallen onto me. I guess I’m in pretty bad shape, but…I can’t see anything”

“Do you know what happened?”

“No…neither of us were doing anything out of the ordinary. You were about to open the post for the day weren’t you?”

“Yes, a few letters and some books by the looks of it. The usual really”

“That can’t be it…”

Dr Erskine cried out

“Are you okay, Dr Erskine?”

“Something hurts really badly, Bucky. I’m in such pain”

“I wish I could help you, sir. But I can’t even see you”

“I guess the library must have collapsed on us. The bookshelves are probably keeping us safe right now. They’re surprisingly sturdy you…”

Bucky shuddered and started to wretch and cough, his chest wheezing loudly

“What…what’s wrong my boy?”

“I…I can’t breathe!”

-*-

It was less than ten minutes before the fire brigade arrived. Nat had already advised them that they’d need heavy industrial lifting and cutting gear but even she wasn’t sure if that was going to be enough. She couldn’t estimate the extent of the damage. With most of the top floor the library occupied practically imploded, and the weight of roof above crushing down on the damaged superstructure, threatening to flatten it completely, she was inclined to agree with Logan’s realistic pessimism on the chances of finding survivors.

She’d alerted the three Corporation doctors on site and their medical bay was primed to receive any walking wounded, not as if Nat expected to find many of them in the carnage. Their sole patient at the moment was Steve, who had rapidly ascended to such hysterics of grief in the security post that he’d had to be restrained and sedated for his own good. She felt terrible about it, but Steve was going to be danger to others as well as himself, and it was doubtful Nat could provide him with the slightest sliver of comfort. It was clear to her that the only thing that could have done this kind of damage was an explosive device, probably directed to the library in the post. That would rather neatly explain why Thor had skipped town. He could just disappear into the Norwegian countryside after he’d made good on his threat, and if Bucky had caught the full force of that blast, then…

She couldn’t bear to follow that train of thought any further. Hurling herself into action she began contacting everyone she could; not just the emergency services, but concerned relatives, the press and, most importantly of all, Tony Stark himself. 

-*-

Muffled voices penetrated the gloom. Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness trying to concentrate on his laboured breathing as calmly as he could. It was getting harder and harder to suck in any air. Dr Erskine kept counting breaths with him, his voice soothing but growing weaker, ever weaker until it was barely a whisper. Then Bucky realised that it had stopped.

“Dr Erskine, are you still with me?”

He didn’t get a reply, but a sudden shudder of breath from the crumpled figure lying beside him assured him that the librarian was still alive. Wait a minute, he could actually see Dr Erskine’s outline. He could have sworn he hadn’t been able to see anything at all before.

Slowly, painfully slowly, a shaft of daylight crept up from the floor level. The two men looked out onto the London skyline. The best view in London peeped out from above the shattered and dust-caked wreckage. Dr Erskine looked in terrible shape, pinned down by gobbets of concrete gory with his own blood. Bucky grasped the librarian’s shoulder with the hand that he could still feel. The old man turned his face towards Bucky and ventured a sweet smile.

“You’ll find some papers in my home. They’re under my mattress. You’ll want to read them, my boy” he croaked weakly “I need to tell you something, Bucky. I always loved you like my son and your family like the family I never had. I was afraid to say so before, bearing in mind what your father did…but I loved you for your courage and your faith.” He flinched a little, his gaze lighting upon Bucky’s injuries “You gotta be brave for me now, you hear? You gotta be so brave for your Stevie and your kids”

“Dr Erskine? Abraham? Don’t talk like that” pleaded Bucky

“S’funny” mumbled Dr Erskine sluggishly “That view…that view of the London skyline. Somehow I always knew it’d be the last thing I’d ever see”

Bucky shifted his gaze “Well, pretty much every department in the tower wanted to be here for that view. I bet they don’t want to be with us today though, huh?”

He turned back to his boss. Dr Abraham Erskine’s eyes stayed firmly fixed to the skyline, but they no longer registered.

He was gone

And the sudden silence was deafening.

Bucky sobbed and gasped in big gulps, feeling more alone than he ever had before in his life. “STEVIE!” he shrieked, coughing up a fine spray of bright red froth.

-*-

 

Several floors below, in the medical centre, Steve came to with a start. He must have been dreaming through the dull fog of sedative. He could have sworn he’d heard his Bucky calling out, in fear and pain…

His Bucky…Bucky…BUCKY!!!”

“Now, now Mr Rogers” said the freckled auburn-haired nurse who trotted in “Let’s not get into all of that again. The fire brigade are doing their best.”

“Don’t give me that crap!” growled Steve, wriggling to get off the examination table but failing miserably on account of the three leather restraining straps securing him to the soft mattress “My husband’s up there. I don’t care what anyone says. He’s got to be alive, he’s GOT to be”

“I know, sir, I know…” soothed the nurse “But you can’t very well help him right now. You need to save your strength. Once we have some news, then you’ll be able to put all you energy into that. But for now, please try to get some rest?”

Steve’s blood boiled. He could slaughter an army the mood he was in right now, and certainly tear Thor Odinson’s head clean off its shoulders. But he also appreciated that he was one breath away from yet another sedative. And he didn’t want to be out of it when they gave him the news. “Holy hell” he thought to himself “Why are they taking so damn long?”

The nurse, seeing Steve was apparently calming down, stepped out of the room.

Steve did something he’d never done before. “Sweet Jesus Christ” he begged “I know I don’t go to church as often as Bucky, but I beg you, not for my sake, but for the sake of our kids, to grant me a miracle and spare my Baby’s life. I promise on my life to honour and love and protect him better than I did, if you..if you ….” Steve broke into sobbing gasps

Although he’d certainly been in better states, both of mind and body, his stuttering prayer was answered by a ministering angel, of sorts

“How’re you doin’ Rogers?”

“Nat?...Nat is that you?”

“Christ, you look like hell” she drawled “Guess this is what happens when they strap you down and don’t let you wipe your fuckin’ nose: gross!”

Nat undid the first two straps and helped Steve to sit up, handing him a tissue.

“There. Better?”

Steve looked down at the remaining strap against his waist

“Not until you’ve calmed down, soldier” she said “Well, not until you’ve heard what I’ve got to say, at least”

Steve’s mind bounced about in a hundred different directions all at once. “She’s being flippant and jokey so it must be good news, but then if she had something terrible to say, then maybe she’d try to make me feel better first, or is it a double bluff, or a triple bluff or….”

“You with me, Rogers?”

“Yeah…yeah” he blinked away the fevered thoughts “What is it, Nat?”

Nat sighed. Well, the good news is, there weren’t many people on the top floor at the time. Most of the personnel from the research and development centre offices were on an away-day, and those that weren’t had taken the day off.

She fixed her eyes on Steve. “They found Bucky and Dr Erskine together. Erskine, well…that sweet old man didn’t make it, Steve”

Steve’s eyes widened. It was every bit as bad as he’d feared.

“Bucky’s still alive. The firefighters were attracted by him shouting for help and screaming out your name. Apparently he saw Erskine die.”

Steve went drip white, his mouth so dry he could barely spit the words out

“How is he?”

“Bucky’s in a pretty bad way. There’s no way I can sugar-coat this for you. He was crushed by debris the same as Erskine was. The left side of his body is trapped and the paramedics are trying to stabilise his kidneys prior to the fire fighters moving anything, so that the toxins accumulated in his bloodstream don’t overwhelm his system. To complicate matters, he’d got a penetrating chest injury and several broken ribs, and that means his breathing isn’t so good right now either. At the moment, there’s no way of knowing what internal injuries he’s sustained, but he’s…but he’s alive Steve.”

Steve wanted to think, but so much was crowding in that he couldn’t make any sense of it. Right now, the dominant feeling was one of blessed relief. His prayers had been answered. Bucky was alive. Everything else could wait.

“How long do they think…” his voice trailed off

Nat shrugged, anticipating his question “I’m guessing they’d rather move him properly than move him quickly. I’m sure you’d feel the same way too.”

Steve fell silent. There really wasn’t anything left to say, but far too much to think.

“I’ve taken the liberty of calling your kids’ schools. We’re driving them all home and one of our best crèche assistants has volunteered to look after them until you get home. I’ve also doubled the bodyguard protection, just in case.”

“Thanks Nat, I owe you one”

“Well, as I’m sure your Bucky would say, “Call it…”

Suddenly, Nat’s walkie-talkie crackled into life

“Go ahead, Logan”

“They’ve managed to get him out, ma’am”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Steve glanced absently at his watch. Unaccountably, he seemed to have lost nine hours. How strange to lose nine hours and barely notice. And yet, in the course of those nine hours, he had lost more than he even knew he had.

Had he been sleeping on watch? How could so much go wrong in the blink of an eye? He unclasped his watchstrap and toyed with the adjustor. “How easy it would be to turn back the clock”, he thought “But you can’t turn back time”.

It was a few minutes past ten that the timer triggered the explosive package posted to the library. He didn’t think he’d been listening when Nat called to check up on him on the pretence of providing an update, but some attentive streak in him still committed the details to a scrap of memory. Forensic investigators had quickly traced the site of the blast to an entirely unassuming antique gate-legged table with a bad case of worm in one leg. It had been part of Dr Erskine’s family furniture, so – once the worm had been fumigated – he’d been seized with the need to preserve the memory of past generations by employing it as impromptu library furniture. With one wonky leg, it seemed appropriate to lean it up against a pillar for stability, making it fit for purpose as a postal sorting table. Sadly, neither Dr Erskine nor any of his colleagues had thought to consider the significance of the load-bearing pillar that wonky-legged table was leaning against. The pillar held up the table, but it also held up a sizeable proportion of the floor.

No, they hadn’t considered it. They hadn’t considered it at all. But someone had. Someone who knew the Stark Corporation in intimate detail had noted its location very carefully, and estimated the time it would take for something to arrive on that wonky old table. Bucky had been standing on the opposite side of the pillar when the package exploded, so most of him had been shielded from the blast. Dr Erskine had been sitting somewhat further away from the initial explosion, but without the pillar’s protection. The rest was a case for forensic science: how much damage could heat, fire, falling masonry and flying debris do to the human body? Heck, how fertile was your imagination?

By the time Steve had reached his front door, only little Suzy was still on her way home, and before he’d even had time to sit his other children down on the sofa in the lounge, she was reunited with them. “Papa” she called, instantly wrapping her arms around his leg. She was overjoyed to see him. She always was. His baby; Bucky’s baby…what was he going to say to her? He was suddenly seized by the dreadful realisation that pretty much every difficult thing the kids had ever had explained to them since they became a family together had come from the sweet lips of their Mama. He hoisted Suzy up against his chest and sat down, the haunted stares of Leo and Clara bearing down on him. Neither of them made a sound, but their expressions told of a lifetime of pain, their eyes wide and fearful, their shoulders set square just like their Papa, anticipating a blow from somewhere; anywhere. Was this the memory of their Stepfather, or was it the anticipation of horrors yet to come?

Steve swallowed hard. He had to reassure them; comfort them; give them just as much information as they could handle, but not overload them, and yet still answer their questions. It was so difficult. How did his Bucky do it? How would his Bucky do it? “Probably wearing that hideous house-coat”, he figured, without smiling, but there was something to that. If he could make all this sound domestic and couch it in familiar family terms, then maybe, just maybe, he stood a chance with them.

“So, you’re probably wondering how you got to be so lucky, having another afternoon off, huh?” he ventured, brightly

“Erm…Papa, you’re really bad at that” complained Leo

“At what?” replied Steve

“At sounding happy when you’re not. You’re a terrible liar.”

“Actually, Mama is a terrible liar too” Clara chimed in “But at least he’s really silly. You’re not nearly silly enough”

Even Suzy pouted an approval at that

“So, are you going to tell us what’s really going on?” asked Leo, his chin quivering a little

Steve should have known that, with the hell they’d gone through, his kids would be able to see right through him.

“All right” he sighed “I promise from now on to be completely honest with you about all of this”

Leo didn’t look in the least bit convinced. Steve guessed he’d have a lot of fences to fix in the future.

“Now, would I be right in guessing you didn’t believe Mama’s safety programme either?”

After all three kids nodded solemnly to that, Steve swallowed hard and began

“There’s a bad man who doesn’t like me or my boss Mr Stark. We were frightened he’d try to hurt you, so we had all the security features put in”

“And the car” added Clara

“Yes, and the car. Even though Mama is right. My car DOES smell like pigeon poop”

None of the kids so much as reacted, let alone smiled.

Oh boy.

“Okay, well…we were worried that the bad man might try and hurt me and Mama too, so we had security features put in at the office. But the bad man got through them. He hurt Mama.”

Clara and Suzy gasped “Is…is Mama okay?”

“Mama’s alive. But very poorly”

“Can we see him?”

“The doctors are trying to make him better. Even I can’t see him yet. I’m hoping to see the doctors tonight and find out how he is. Then I’ll come straight back and tell you okay?”

Little Suzy just looked stunned. Clara, who’d asked most of the questions, now fell into her own thoughts. Leo said nothing, his face brooding. 

Steve didn’t like the looks of it.

“You look like you want to say something, Leo”

Leo’s eyes narrowed “I…I KNEW it. I just KNEW it”

Steve’s shoulder blades shot up to his earlobes “Knew what, Leo?”

“You’re just like the others. You say you’re gonna protect mum and you can’t, or you won’t. It’s talk; it’s all talk. Is Mama going to wind up dead too?”

Steve felt like he’d been punched in the guts. Did his son really believe that about him?

“Leo, honey” he pleaded “I love your Mama more than life itself. I didn’t want anything to happen to him, please…”

“But it did” spat Leo, cutting him off “You’re all the same. You’re all murderers. I’ll never trust another dad again!”

Leo sprang to his feet and stomped noisily upstairs.

Suzy began to cry

“Oh little Suzy, sweetheart” said Steve, cradling his youngest “I’m sorry. I’m going to do everything I can to make this better. I promise”

Suzy’s crying softened and subsided a little. Clara looked up with a weary half-smile on her face

“I’ll try to talk to Leo, Papa” she sighed “He’s angry because of Stepfather. But I know you didn’t mean for Mama to get hurt”

“Thanks Clara. That means a lot to me. This is hard on all of us, and I’m so grateful that you still trust me”

Clara pursed her lips “You’ll let us know how Mama is straight away?”

“It’s a promise” 

-*-

That was over an hour ago. Peggy, the nice crèche assistant said she’d be happy to come back and watch over the children whilst he went over to the hospital. As he glanced back at the watch in his hand, he realised that he’d been waiting only twenty minutes, though it felt like over twenty years. The dull flickering strip light above him casting jagged shadows around the tiny visitor’s room prompted an unwelcome flashback to that morning, when the light in his office had crashed to the table; the harbinger of this catastrophe. How fast life could change.

With a cursory tap on the door, in bustled a tubby middle-aged doctor with unruly curly black hair and thick furry caterpillar-type eyebrows; a pair of delicate half-moon silver-rimmed spectacles perched incongruously on a bulbous nose seemingly too big for his face. It almost looked like he was wearing a comedy mask. If he was, then it was a pretty poor joke.

“Mr Rogers? I’m Mr Banner” he announced, offering a brief business-like handshake, “I’m one of the critical care consultants. Your husband Bucky has been in my care today. I gather you’d appreciate an update.”

“That’s something of an understatement” said Steve “I don’t know anything about Bucky’s condition as yet. I’ve been too busy looking after my children”

Banner nodded and took the chair opposite his “Well, working in critical care we generally deal with patients in the very worst physical conditions, or with severe head injuries. I’m pleased to say that Bucky isn’t in either of those categories any more. I’ll be discharging him to a general ward either tomorrow or the following day once we’ve had the opportunity to monitor his withdrawal from the sedation.”

Steve breathed a deep sigh of relief “So, he’s still out of it?”

“He’s undergone pretty major surgery, Mr Rogers” advised Banner “We need to let his wounds settle a little before we can prescribe appropriate pain medication”

“His…his side was crushed, wasn’t it?”

Banner nodded again “Yes, his left arm was very badly damaged, up to and including the shoulder blade. I’m afraid we couldn’t save any of it”

Steve’s jaw dropped

“Prosthetics aren’t very practical for extreme upper arm amputations, but he’s a young man still; he should be able to compensate, given time. We were able to treat his collapsed lung effectively at least, and the chest drain is nearly complete. We even had the chance to stabilise his ribs at the same time. They shouldn’t prove a problem once the bruising and swelling have subsided”

“You’re nothing if not factual” said Steve, evenly

“It’s the nature of critical care, Mr Rogers” Banner remarked impassively “I’m sorry, but bedside manner isn’t big on the list of requirements in the job description.”

“So I see” Steve sighed “I appreciate it’s not on your job description, but may I ask if it’s possible to see him?”

“Possible” conceded Banner “But not advisable” He shrugged “It’s your choice. I can admit you to critical care if you wish?”

“Please?”

Mr Banner ushered Steve through the security doors after he’d thoroughly scrubbed his hands both with alcohol gel and soap and water”

“A lot of the patients here are very vulnerable to infection” explained Banner “We aim for a “belt and braces” approach to prevention”

Steve really didn’t need the self-evident explanation. He tried to remember that Banner wasn’t trying to be patronising, or annoying, even though he quite clearly was. He was employed for his clinical skills, and that’s what Bucky needed above all.

A couple of minutes later, he found himself standing in a four-bedded ward, each bed flanked by rows of machines beeping and whirring. A silent squadron of nurses patrolled the area, scribbling on charts, tending to the machines, and checking on their patients. The sun setting through the two picture windows at the far end of the ward cast an eerie blood-red glow on the scene. Steve thought he had plumbed the depths of his emotions, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Bucky lay partly on his right side, a complex scaffold of rods, pins and bolts holding him together where his torso no longer extended. Even from several feet away, Steve gasped in horror at the sight

“It looks worse than it is” Banner advised in a stage whisper “Once his ribs can support him without the arm socket, we’ll be able to remove most of this support structure.

Steve nodded, biting his lower lip

“There’s something really important for you to remember, Mr Rogers. Bucky is being kept unconscious to help with this recovery. He can’t respond to you, but there’s a fair bet that he can hear everything you say when you get up close. So please…no matter how you might feel, do try not to upset him”

“I would NEVER do that” protested Steve, feeling thoroughly offended that Banner would even suggest he’d do such a thing

“I know” said Banner “But sometimes relatives blurt out something when they first see their loved ones that they can’t take back. Believe me, it happens more often than you’d think. People aren’t used to seeing trauma. They panic. It’s the most natural thing in the world, but I’d rather give out the advice and offend people first, than assume everything will be okay, only to find out later that the patient heard something that really upset them at this crucial stage in their recovery.”

Steve nodded “I know, Mr Banner. Thank you for the advice, it’s genuinely appreciated”

“I’ll come back to let you know when it’s time to go” Banner concluded “I can only give you a few minutes this evening I’m afraid. Visiting hours are almost over and, as I’m sure you’re aware, he’s been through a lot today.”

Steve drew closer. Bucky’s face was propped against a pillow, an oxygen mask attached to his face. His breaths puffed in and out like a sleeping child. Despite the brutal metal superstructure attached to his body, he looked so tiny, as if losing the thick pelt of consciousness and mobility had shrunk his life to something Steve could easily cradle, or treasure in the palm of his hand. Only he hadn’t. Steve had let Bucky fall…fall into this nightmare of pain and permanent disability.

Steve blinked. Banner had been right. It was all too easy to slip into selfish thoughts and he’d been one heartbeat away from forming those into words. Bucky didn’t need to hear his self-reproach, or his silly weak cursing.

“Bucky, Baby? It’s your Stevie. How’re you doing?”

Steve gently stroked Bucky’s cheek, the only part of his face free of the bulky oxygen mask, with his index finger.

“Bucky, I love you so much. You’re so strong. You gotta be all brave and strong for your Stevie now okay?”

Deep down, in the very core of Bucky’s subconscious brain, Steve’s soothing voice curled around him like a healing balm, speaking in unison with Dr Erskine “You gotta be brave for me now, you hear? You gotta be so brave for your Stevie and your kids”

“We’re going to go home real soon okay, Baby?” whispered Steve “You’re fine, you’re fine. I love you SO much, Baby. Please come back to me”

Steve planted a gentle heartfelt kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky’s soft heart skipped a beat. Flames of hope rekindled in his soul. His Stevie was here. He was getting better. He was going home.

-*-

“Would you like one of the nurses to call you when he’s fully conscious again?” asked Mr Banner, as he guided Steve back towards the door

“Yes please” Steve replied

“Well, I suggest you head home and try to get some sleep, Mr Rogers.” He concluded “These next few days may be difficult for you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Steve didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He returned to the visitor’s room after Mr Banner had left and wept. Even then he felt guilty, like he should have been doing something more productive, like getting back to his kids.

When he’d been waiting for news; when he’d been replaying the story of the day in his head, he’d felt that he could separate all of this from the life he was trying to make for his family, like he could herd his kids into little grief-safe compartments and isolate this workplace mess into something he’d manage “on the clock” like an accountancy discrepancy in the office.

Only his watch said 8pm, not 8am, and the shit-storm hadn’t abated; the fetid turd of fate was in his face, not at arm’s length. Steve suddenly reproached himself for unconsciously selecting the “arm’s length” metaphor. Bucky…Bucky, his sweet dear adorable Baby, smashed to pieces. God, what was he thinking? He’d let this happen. He should have known Bucky was the soft option for Thor. He was so trusting, so easy to please, so easy to love. And that Norse bastard knew it.

For a few intensely satisfying moments, he found himself fantasising about what he’d like to do to Thor if he ever saw him again, but –even as he did so – he knew it to be childish wish-fulfilment. None of the scenarios playing in his head were realistic; he’d never see Thor open and vulnerable ever again. The man was a smart psychopath. He’d gone to ground.

Instead, Steve had to try and make sense of the present; of what he could control. But what exactly could he control? He son hated him, his other children distrusted him, he’d nearly killed his husband and the Stark building was an unstable wreck. All because he’d let his guard drop.

Cursing the interruption, he answered his buzzing phone “Yes!” he answered, his voice sharp and savage

“Jesus, Rogers, don’t bite my head off”

“Oh…Nat…yeah, sorry. I just saw Bucky”

“Shit” breathed Nat “How is he?”

“Half a man” squeaked Steve, his breath shuddering “God forgive me, Nat, what have I done? I should have protected my…”

“What the hell are you talking about, Rogers?” Nat interrupted angrily “You’re a fuckin’ saint. You’re dad of the year, you’re fuckin’ husband of the year. Shit, you even make ME feel broody when you bang on about your family”

“Saint Steve” he spat back “Patron saint of fuckin’ up his family and blowing half his husband’s goddamn body off”

“Oh Christ. Steve you’re such a fuckin’ idiot. Wake up and smell the coffee. You didn’t fuck up your family; you didn’t hurt Bucky. Thor did.”

“Yeah, but I let it happen”

“Of course you did” Nat shot sarcastically “The panic buttons and the chauffeured limos and the security guards were all part of your brilliant master-plan to do nothing to protect your family, weren’t they?”

“You don’t understand, Nat. You don’t know what it’s like to have people who depend on you”

“Well, maybe I don’t, Rogers. Maybe I’ve just got Stark’s entire staff and sometimes even Stark himself to look after. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re not trying to rub my empty womb into my fuckin’ face, but Jeez, Rogers, I get it. You could have done more. We ALL could have done more, but you know what? We’re human, we’re all human.”

Steve sighed “I’m sorry Nat. I’m angry, and I don’t know what to do. There’s so much, I can’t even begin to think where to start. Suddenly I have the pieces of a broken world to pick up“

“Yeah well” she mused, her voice softening a little “When was the last time you got something to eat?”

“I can’t remember”

Nat snorted “Thought so. You’ll do nobody any good if you’re making yourself ill, soldier. Peggy still with the kids?”

“Yeah”

“Then stay right where you are. I’m coming straight over”

-*-

 

Ten minutes later, he was sitting opposite Nat in a brightly lit pizza place down the street from the hospital. It was clearly popular with the medics, from all the half-heard clinical conversations drifting in and out of their earshot.

“Ohhhhhhhkay” drawled Nat, handing Steve a can of cola “Pizza’s on its way. I already placed an order on the way over. Now let’s get you ordered, Rogers”

Steve blinked

“Yeah, I kinda figured I’d get that kind of dumb reaction. First the kids. What are you gonna tell the kids?”

Steve winced “Leo and Clara sniffed out my bullshit before I even opened my mouth this afternoon. Leo is mad at me for letting his Mama down. It’s all a damn mess. But….I guess I have to tell them the truth. Anything else would be a betrayal, even if they hate me for it.”

“Is….the right answer” smiled Nat “Still, it’s gonna suck. You want me to come with you for moral support?”

Steve gave an affectionate snort “Thanks for the offer but Leo would probably jump to the wrong conclusions and if you backed up anything I had to say, he’d think I was trying to replace Bucky with you. He’s had enough controlling dads in his life”

“That’s a fair point. Would Leo feel the same way if I helped you manage the kid’s hospital visits?”

“That might actually be very helpful” Steve admitted “I’m not sure I’ll be able to control my emotions and the kid’s emotions all at once”

“Good, that’s settled, then. You thought of how you’re gonna break the news to Becca yet?”

Shit. He’d forgotten all about Bucky’s twin sister. His heart sank. Yet another thing to feel guilty about

“S’okay” she said. “I can handle that part too”

“But I can’t ask you to do that?”

“Oh please” Nat waved him away “As if she’s gonna be mad at you for putting Bucky and the kids first? It’s been less than twelve hours since it happened. She’s a good kid; she’ll understand”

Steve toyed with the idea of asking Nat how she could be so sure of that, but decided – as two enormous pizzas landed on their table - that he was too tired, and too hungry to question it.

“Thanks for this, Nat. How much do I owe you?”

Nat sniggered, batting his hand away from his inside pocket “No need to thank me, and no need to owe me either. Stark’s picking up the tab”

Steve’s look hovered between startled and questioning

“You think he doesn’t know what’s going on? Jeez, Rogers; that little shit Odinson just blew up Stark Tower, not to mention murdering one employee and attempting to murder another. The pizza’s such a tiny detail, it won’t even register. Now dig in, before it gets cold”

-*-

Two days later, Nat made good on her promise. Whilst Steve carefully tiptoed around Leo’s bruised feelings, Clara’s self-assigned “mission” to reconcile the two of them, and little Suzy’s desperate need to just cry at everything, Nat breezed into the visitor’s room, with an unexpected guest.

“Becca?”

“Oh Steve!” Becca ran into his arms and gave him a big hug. Steve’s initial tension about how Bucky’s sister would react to the news of his terrible injuries was dispelled in an instant and he found himself melting into her embrace. Becca even smelt a little like her brother, subconsciously calming and reassuring him in preparation for the trials to come.

Suzy immediately brightened, she loved seeing Mama’s sister. She always gave the biggest hugs and the sweetest candies. Within moments, she was up in Becca’s arms

Leo managed a “Hey Auntie Becca” but everything seemed like a huge effort for him. Clara made a move to jab him with her elbow, but thought better of it.

“What’s with you, Leo?” asked Becca “You sound like you’re missing a battery or two”

“I…well” Steve could hear the cogs turning in Leo’s head. He was still sore at Steve but he was also frightened of losing his Mama and confused about what to do with feeling both the emotions at the same time. Steve sympathised. Deep down, he felt the same way.

“Well, never mind” she soothed “Let’s go and see your Mama okay?”

“Now remember” said Steve “Big smiles. We don’t want to be sad in front of Mama. We want him to get better quickly so he can come home soon, and he’ll get better if we show him lots of love, okay?”

-*-

 

The visitor’s room was eerily familiar, but the ward was entirely different. Bucky had been transferred to a general ward specialising in physical therapy and rehabilitation. He had a lovely private room that the morning sun streamed through, and his windowsill was crowded with “Get well soon” cards. How different the sunlight looked on his body compared to the nightmarish shadows of the sunset in critical care. Bucky’s smile was so wide and angelic, it made Steve’s heart ache with love for him. Most of the scaffolding in his side had been removed now, leaving a tidy pattern of dressings in place to accelerate healing. True it was that the lack of even a shoulder, let alone an arm, looked obscenely out of place on his frame, but if Bucky could get used to it, then Steve sure as hell could.

If Becca, Nat or the kids felt the same way, and he assumed they did, none of them showed a trace of it, God bless ‘em.

Mama! Squealed Suzy, as Becca lowered her to give Bucky a big hug around the neck. “Hey sweetie” he said, smiling up at his daughter. Clara rushed over to do the same. Only Leo held back, solemnly holding on to Nat’s hand.

“Leo, are you okay?” asked Steve

Leo lowered his head and shuffled towards Bucky. He put his head on Bucky’s lap and mumbled something

“What’s that sweetie?” Bucky prompted

Leo looked up, tears in his eyes “I said I don’t want the new car, Mama. I want Papa’s car that smells of pigeon poop”

Steve furrowed his brow

Leo continued “You said Papa would give your arm to have that new car. I don’t want it. I want Papa to give you your arm back”

“Oh honey” said Bucky, gently stroking Leo’s hair “That’s just a way of saying things. Papa didn’t mean it. What happened to me wasn’t about the car. I love you, Leo, and Papa loves you just as much. He does. He’s a good Papa, just look at him and you’ll know it”

“That’s what mum said about Stepfather sometimes” replied Leo, uneasily

“Well…sometimes grown-ups say things that they shouldn’t. What matters is what they do, more than what they say. Papa doesn’t do the kind of things Stepfather did, does he?”

“No” admitted Leo “But he hurt you”

Bucky shook his head before asking, conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a little secret, Leo?”

Leo nodded

“When I’d been hurt really bad, I got taken to a much scarier ward than this with all sorts of machines going beep. You wouldn’t have liked it. I didn’t like it either but the doctors made me sleep so that I could get better. Now, you know about Dr Erskine?”

“Yes” said Clara “Papa told us that he was in heaven now”

“Yes, he is” agreed Bucky “Dr Erskine was a very good man, wasn’t he?”

“The best” said Leo

“Well, the last thing Dr Erskine told me was that I had to be strong and brave and get better so I could be with you all. And the first thing I heard when I was coming round from the sleep the doctors put me under was Papa saying the same thing to me. I haven’t even told Papa this yet, but hearing that made me want to be strong and get better for you”

Steve blinked away his tears.

“Really?” asked Leo

“Really, REALLY” Bucky confirmed “And I’m here with you now because I listened to what Dr Erskine said to me, and what Papa said to me. Papa didn’t hurt me, he helped me. I’m still here, Leo, I ‘m still me and I still love you”

Tears filled Leo’s eyes “Oh Mama, I love you SO much”

“And I love you too sweetie. I love you all, and I want to get better soon so that I can be back home with you”

“Mama? That thing you said in the car when we were with Dr Erskine? Does this mean you’re untouchable now?” Clara asked, fearfully

“No sweetie. I’m just as touchable and huggable as before, only you need to wait until I get better to hug me tightly, okay?”

“But you said in the car that some people don’t get better” Clara queried

“That’s true, honey. I’ll get better but not completely. If you can’t be made better, sometimes it’s good to do the best with what you have. I can’t have a new arm, but I can get strong and well again and be with you, can’t I?”

Clara looked dubious

“Tell you what? We’ll try something. Everyone who’s got a left arm, put your hand up now?”

Everyone but Bucky raised their hands

“Now everyone who won’t help me if I ask them to do something for me using their left arm, put your hand down now”

Everyone kept their hands up

“There you see” smiled Bucky “I’ve not lost an arm, I’ve gained six of them!”

Steve’s heart burst with love. There were times he just didn’t feel worthy of Bucky; when he didn’t feel he gave back as much as he got; when he couldn’t simply “call it even.” Bucky was everything good and noble and pure in life. He always knew just what to say and what to do. 

He was the one Steve had let down; he was the one lying there in pain; he was the one left with half a body. But he was Steve’s salvation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for arxiver

Of course, coming back home wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded. Bucky might have wanted to be strong and brave, but that meant a lot of soreness and pain along the way, much of it inflicted by a chirpy young man with a hearing aid and a roguish grin permanently plastered to his face.

Clint Barton was a physiotherapist with a mission, not only to rehabilitate but to re-educate. He was only paid to do the former, but he slipped the latter in between the lines for those patients who had the aptitude for it. He wasn’t sure what to make of a traumatised library assistant with a same-sex spouse and ready-made family. His inclination was to teach, but he had the feeling he’d have an equal amount to learn.

“Of course” Clint drawled, as Bucky strained and twisted on the endurance equipment he’d been strapped into “If people with two hands hadn’t created everything so you needed both of them for day-to-day activities, then you wouldn’t be having half of these struggles”

“That’s like saying we shouldn’t be designing buildings with stairs anymore because everyone can use a ramp” grunted Bucky

“Hey…that’s my line!” chuckled Clint

Bucky arched an eyebrow “I’m gay, honey. I know a bit about people making assumptions. Okay, it’s not nearly as visible, but I can appreciate how the people in charge just assume everyone’s going to be like them, and design life to fit round two legs, two arms, functional eyes and ears, and heterosexual family life. And if you don’t fit, they impose false limbs, cochlear implants and endless “back to school” stationery commercials every July and August”

“But you got on board with the stereotype of family life readily enough” persisted Clint

“So did you”

“Yeah, but I AM straight. So…”

“So, I’m still allowed a piece of that pie if I want it” asserted Bucky, taking up a strength-training bar in his hand and hauling the weights attached to it “So are you, Clint. That hearing aid is your choice. You could just as easily lip read or use sign language if you really wanted to, am I right?”

“Less effective for my job amongst the hearing community, that’s all” shrugged Clint

“No doubt” agreed Bucky, “But it’s your choice nonetheless. You chose what you wanted. No-one imposed it on you. Surely I can do the same?”

Clint sighed. Bucky had felt comfortable enough to share some of the harrowing details of his and his husband’s past. He didn’t want to offend, but he didn’t want to suffer the regret of not asking.

“Go on? What is it?” asked Bucky warily, as if reading Clint’s thoughts

“I’m just a bit confused that’s all” he said “I can’t begin to understand what you and Steve went through back then, but weren’t you worried having a relationship and a family would bring it all back again?”

Bucky creased the lines on his forehead, straining hard on the training bar. For a moment, Clint genuinely thought he’d overstepped his mark and braced himself for the consequences he doubtless deserved. Then Bucky exhaled a deep breath he’d obviously been holding in for a while.

"Perhaps we're all a little bit broken inside somewhere, but we all have a choice about what we do with that. We can lash out in anger and cruelty, we can hide away and shrivel up inside, or we can find a way to express ourselves in the truest love, that self-giving love that instinctively drives us to love others more than we love ourselves; the love that inspires me to nurture life, and inspires my Stevie to protect it”

“And you express that instinct through your family?” Clink queried

Bucky gave the bar another sturdy tug “Instincts can be base and cruel, but they can also be noble and true. I’ve always felt this irresistible need to outpour my love unconditionally, just as Steve feels the need to care and protect his loved ones. Between us, I’d like to think that we can give our kids the love, care and security that they truly deserve but which they’d been denied in the past. If someone in a white coat with a clipboard wants to tick us into "masculine" and "feminine" boxes for it, then that's their problem, not ours. We're just helping to heal ourselves and our children by embracing those instincts that encourage love and trust to flourish for our family”

Driving himself at the equipment one final time, he surmised “So, I guess what I’m saying is that family life makes me feel complete, it makes Steve feel complete and it makes the kids feel complete. Together, we’re so much greater than the sum of our parts”

“And do you think you’ll feel any less complete now?”

Bucky laid down the strength training bar shakily and wiped his brow with a hand towel. “I’m not entirely sure yet” he admitted, glancing over at his missing arm “Steve’s my protector; he always was the strong one. He’s got a much smaller frame, but he knows how to handle it, and folks don’t mess with him. I always tended to shrink my body small anyway, to avoid bad things from happening, and it’s a habit I never really got out of. Now…well, now I really don’t know any more. It’d be nice to prove I can do something good with what’s left of me”

Clink cranked an eyebrow

“I don’t like the look on that face one bit, Mr Barton”

“You know I run the toxophily rehab in the fields outside?”

“Sure, I’ve seen you pulling arrows out of the target, or – more often – fishing them out of the bushes. You’re a hopeless teacher” Bucky laughed

“Either that or I have hopeless students” huffed Clink “Well, I wouldn’t advise even a compound bow for you, Bucky, you’ll never develop that strength of torsion. But, I can think of one other sport that’s more precise and might just be right up your street”

“Oh dear. What have I let myself in for” wailed Bucky, melodramatically

-*-

“Ms Romanov, I think you should give Mr Rogers the keys”

Nat, Steve and Tony Stark stood around feeling very exposed on the neat little path that led to Dr Erskine’s front door, despite being flanked by more bodyguards than a world leader. With no living relatives, Abraham Erskine had deposited a copy of his will to his Rabbi and secured the other in the company safe. Unsurprisingly both wills tallied. Bucky was named sole beneficiary of his will, with Steve and the family next in line should anything happen to Bucky. After Abraham’s funeral, it was agreed that Steve should act as his husband’s proxy under Nat and Tony’s supervision as company representatives. And, as Tony smoothly observed, no-one was ever likely to question his credentials as a Stark Corporation representative!

Steve unlocked and ushered the assembled gathering inside the unassuming little terraced house. Nothing had prepared Steve for the contents. Dr Erskine’s living room was a vast treasure-trove of fine antiques: oil paintings, silverware, burr walnut furniture and Carrera marble statuary, with pride of place given over to a vast Regency grandfather clock topped by a brass eagle. For some unfathomable reason, Steve felt himself irresistibly drawn to the eagle and made a mental note to mention it to Bucky.

Bucky had disclosed Dr Erskine’s dying words to Steve and Nat and so cautiously the two of them headed up the stairs to the master bedroom.

With a hearty grunt, Steve upended the mattress. Beneath it lay a scattering of unassuming looking dusty paper files that looked as if they’d been typed during the war. Nat eagerly flipped through a couple.

“Well?” prompted Steve

“I’m not a chemist” said Nat “But these look like chemical formulae. Tony’s got a scientific background. Normally I’d suggest we memo them over to him, but as he’s downstairs making tea for the boys in Kevlar, I’d suggest we give him a little light reading.”

Nat later confessed that this was the first time she'd ever known Tony to pause, or appear lost for words.

“Can you decipher them, Mr Stark?” prompted Nat

“They look…suspiciously like the formulae for an energy-boosting chemical which…” he continued, leafing through a second set of papers “Combined with a chamber that generates electrical stimulation to certain muscles, should theoretically…theoretically mind…improve the strength and endurance of an individual human subject”

Steve’s ears pricked up. “Does it look feasible to you, sir?” he asked

“Feasible? perhaps. Safe?…probably not. Some of the chemicals cited in these files are obsolete, replaced by less dangerous compounds decades ago. Others I don’t know anything about at all, they’re so obscure. Still, we’d be dishonouring Dr Erskine’s memory if we didn’t at least explore the application of this in more detail.”

“I’d be happy to help in any way” Steve offered enthusiastically

“That’s very kind of you but I don’t think you have the skill set required. However I can think of someone you know who does. So, I guess the question I need to ask is, how good are your powers of persuasion, Mr Rogers?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for arxiver

“So, what is this place?”

“Used to be the hospital laundry” said Clint, fiddling with the huge bunch of keys to release a succession of impressive looking padlocks “Dorothy had it adapted over thirty years ago. Not many people remember that now, of course; ancient history” The door squeaked open “Ah, here we go”

Bucky and Clint traversed the dimly-lit ramped corridor into a cavernous room dotted with the outlines of mismatched furniture. The place smelt suspiciously of sweaty gym socks

“Woah! Some bad air in here”

“I’ll say” echoed Bucky

Clint fiddled about on the back wall and finally uncovered a bank of light switches. Two dozen ultra-bright fluorescents fitfully flickered into life. Bucky peered out into the even larger illuminated hall beyond. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have guessed it was a bowling alley, like the kind you see in American films, only it couldn’t be. There were wooden grooves and no bowling balls, just lanes,”

“What is this place?” He turned to Clint who was merrily disinterring the contents of two threadbare bags he’d collected from a locker, onto the table in front of them.

“Oh…shoot” Bucky exclaimed

“Good guess” smiled Clint “You want to try the pistol first?”

It was the first time Bucky had ever handled a gun before. Clint explained the rules of the shooting range; never to point a weapon at anyone else and always to ensure that your firearm was discharged before returning it to the table. It seemed a little like overkill bearing in mind British laws banned the use of practically everything except air weapons. Nevertheless, Clint had emphasised, these were serious weapons, and target shooting was a serious sport. His old friend Dorothy had founded the range for the rehabilitation of patients who had lost so much of their physical strength that they couldn’t participate alongside non-disabled people competitively. With target shooting at least, the playing field was entirely level.

After a couple of hours of practice, Bucky was really getting the hang of it. The pistol was too fiddly for him to load and pump with air one-handed, but he was a natural with the rifle. By the end, he was not only reaching the target at the other end of the range, he was often hitting close to the bulls-eye.

“Now that’s special” whistled Clint as he inspected the last target. “I think we’ve found just the sport for you, Bucky. You’re a natural! How do you feel about that?”

“I…I can’t describe it” confessed Bucky “I was never the kid who wanted to play sports at school, but I can feel a real buzz, a real sense of…achievement.”

“I’m genuinely happy for you. And I’m so glad I opened the old place up. We can come back again any time you like. Dorothy would have been so proud.”

“Sounds like you held a bit of a candle for this lady?” said Bucky

“She was a very strong woman, Bucky. I think you’d have liked her. She’d had to deal with an abusive husband, but the sport empowered her. She became a world champion disability target shooter and founded this place to help others too, but sadly she fell prey to dementia in her older years and her legacy faded away when there was no-one left to carry it on”

“Couldn’t you have done that, Clint?”

“Money was tight at that time. I was too busy trying to save the archery range. She had a son, and he tried his best to help out, but he needed to dedicate most of his time to her care and when she died…well, he couldn’t cope. When you’ve looked after and loved someone for so long and then suddenly they’re gone…”

“So, what happened?” asked Bucky, his face a picture of concern, as he thought of the parallels between this story and Steve’s caring relationship with his own mother.

“The silence of life without her deafened him. He took his own life shortly afterwards” Clint swallowed drily “Remember, my friend, no matter how bad things get, hold on to the people you love and never let them go. The worst sound in the world is silence.”

Bucky thought back to the silence in the library when Dr Erskine had drifted away in front of him. That silence was more crushing than the pillar on his arm. If he’d learned nothing else from this tragedy, it was how precious the love of his family truly was.

-*-

That evening, however, after an exhausting but welcome visit from an excitable Geraldine, bearing a bag of plums (his favourite fruit) from the churchwarden’s garden and a card signed by the whole congregation, he suddenly found that he’d been lumped with yet another piece of impromptu rehabilitation by someone he’d normally expect to depend on for relaxation.

“You’re the only one with access codes to the medical databases, Baby” pleaded Steve, handing over a laptop “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

Bucky swatted Steve’s hand “Okay, okay…if you insist. It’s bad enough doing this stuff for Clint. We were at it for nearly four hours today”

“Should I be jealous?” pouted Steve

“He’s happily married, Stevie. Besides, he’s not my type”

“And who is?”

“Oh…maybe a certain little guy that I know” Bucky teased

“He’s a lucky guy then” Steve teased back

“Yup. He won half a man in a raffle!”

Steve’s brow furrowed “Baby, please don’t talk like that, even in fun. You know how much I adore every little part of you” Steve carefully bent over Bucky and planted a gentle kiss along the line of his healed incisions. Bucky shivered at the touch. He longed for a moment of true intimacy with his Stevie, but hospital beds, even in private wards, aren’t the most conducive to public displays of affection. Besides, he was already pretty exhausted, and his work was far from over.

-*-

Bucky worked on the research after Steve had left. He didn’t want to miss a moment with his husband by staring at a screen. Plus, he had a habit of getting obsessed once he got his teeth into a literature search. It was nearly dawn before he’d thoroughly investigated each of the obscure chemicals names Steve had listed and emailed the details over to Tony. He’d also managed to chomp his way through the whole bag of plums. He could only hope that the results had been worth his effort.

As he drowsily lay down the laptop a sudden spasmodic, searing pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced snapped him back awake and knocked the breath clean out of his lungs. He jabbed at the nurse call button urgently, hoping and praying that whatever the hell this fresh indignity was, it wouldn’t set his recovery back too badly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver

The next morning, Steve figured he’d quickly visit the hospital to check how Bucky’s research was going, opting to take the kids round to see him after school. It was the right choice, if he did but know it, although – at the time – all he could register was the distress.

He could hear Bucky screaming before he even entered the ward. A cold sweat pricking his forehead, he picked up the pace, without breaking into a run, which he appreciated might draw some disapproving glances from the nurses. He practically speed walked his way into Bucky’s room. Bucky was alone, his face partly buried in a pillow, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Bucky, Baby…what’s wrong?”

Bucky took one look at his husband, stopped yelling and started crying

“Oh…oh honey, please…please don’t cry” Steve sat on the bed and very gently embraced his love.

Wiping his thumbs over the tears he asked “Can you tell me, Baby?”

Bucky went very quiet and didn’t meet Steve’s eye. Steve felt a piercing stab to his heart.

“Oh Bucky, sweetheart…please, I beg you, don’t do that? Whatever it is; whatever I’ve done wrong, you just have to tell me? Please Baby, I’m sorry”

Bucky sniffled and looked up at Steve, but to the side, still avoiding his eye

“I’m…I’m so ashamed Stevie”

“Bucky? There’s nothing in the world that you could be ashamed of. You’re so strong. You’re my inspiration”

Bucky shook his head “No, no NO. I’m just a good liar, that’s all. This morning, I started up with this pain and it was so bad. The nurses gave me medication and I guess it’s starting to work but…Stevie, I feel bad, and achy and just so SICK of everything. I hate this”

“Well, that’s understandable” Steve jumped in “You’ve been through such a lot and you’re so brave”

“Steve, for God’s sake will you shut up and listen to me for once in your life?” snapped Bucky

Steve took a double take. He’d never heard Bucky like this before. It frightened him more than he cared to admit. He nodded meekly to Bucky and kept silent.

“Your love is like a balm to me, Stevie” he explained gently “When I was young; when all the bad things happened, I’d get so angry and scared. Mostly I’d be upset about being alone, and even nowadays, when little things frustrate me, I can sometimes get angry out of all proportion. I shout and scream to get my frustrations out. It never seems to help but it doesn’t stop me from doing it.”

Steve furrowed his brow “I know, honey. You’ve never seen it. That’s because when I get angry or scared, I have you now. I can talk to you and cuddle with you and just feel your strength near me, and it makes me feel strong enough to do the things I need to do. I know you keep insisting you’re not strong enough, but Stevie you’re wrong, you are SO wrong: you’re like liquid courage for me, you really are. Even difficult conversations with the kids are easy when you’re around. But when you’re not…like after I’d finished the research and I felt this new kind of pain that I didn’t understand…” Bucky’s tears began to fall again “I just went to pieces. The nurses probably hate me for making such a fuss but I was on my own and I didn’t know who to turn to…so I started screaming to let it all out”

Steve placed his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulled their foreheads in close. For quite a while he said nothing, just letting Bucky feel his warmth, follow the rhythm of his steady breathing and just be there as a solid reassuring presence. No fancy words; no high-blown sentiment; just him.

After a few minutes, Steve whispered, just loud enough for Bucky to hear with his lips pressed against his forehead “When I had to tell the kids about you, I was in pieces too. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it like you. I didn’t scream or shout, but you should have felt the knots in my shoulders!. That’s how I deal with stress and being away from you, Baby. It’s okay…it’s okay to feel bad and to feel sad. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a special person, who I want home so soon. I love you so much, it hurts, Baby. Not the kind of hurt you’re having right now, I appreciate. But this I know. I’ll move heaven and earth to bring you home safe.”

“You already do that, Stevie. I know how driven you are and I’m so proud of you for keeping things together so that I’ve a safe and happy home to come back to. But please, sweetheart, don’t overdo it. I don’t want to see you stressing yourself into the ground – that won’t do me or the kids any good in the long run. Take one day at a time okay?”

“That’s rich coming from the man who pulls an all-nighter doing research for me” smirked Steve, “But seriously, all of your hard work could be really important to something special I’m working on with Nat and Tony, so thank you.”

“Call it even” smiled Bucky.

-*-

A few hours later, Steve got treated to lunch at the Dorchester courtesy of Tony Stark. Stark Tower was still closed down for estimates on repairs, with the bulk of the staff relocated to temporary facilities close by, but Tony liked his luxury, and his privacy, so he had a small team of trusted employees and specialists working out of his suite in the exclusive hotel.

“So, I had my team take a look at the material your husband located for us, Mr Rogers” explained Tony, nibbling on a salmon appetiser, “And we were able to ascertain that, although none of the chemical compounds pose an immediate biological threat, one was withdrawn from general use due to safety concerns and none have ever been studied in a combination trial”

“Meaning they could be potentially dangerous if mixed together in the quantities stipulated for Dr Erskine’s formula” clarified Nat

“I know what a combination trial is” shot Steve, although in reality he wasn’t quite sure: hell he could always ask Bucky later if he needed to “The question is, when are we going to test it?”

“Whoa, whoa, whooooa there, Mr Rogers” said Tony, dropping a canapé and holding up his palms “If you know anything about clinical trials, you’ll also know the testing has to be slow and rigorous. It hasn’t even been combined in a test tube yet, and Stark Corporation both ethically and morally objects to any form of animal testing so…”

“So why not test it on a human?”

Tony gasped

“What the hell’s up with you today?” shot Nat “We’ve still got far too little data to go on for human testing. Besides, we’ve also analysed the components of the electrical stimulation device using Bucky’s research and we can rule that out straight away. That’s practically a Second World War torture chamber of unproven theoretical physics. Practically anything could go wrong”

“Which is all the more reason to exercise caution” Tony chimed in “If one part of the science isn’t safe, then there’s a fair bet the other part might not be either”

“What was the purpose of the electrical stimulation anyhow?”

“From what my team have been able to piece together from the original research” continued Tony “We think it was designed to prepare the subject’s muscle mass so that the chemicals would exercise a permanent effect on enhancing the physiology of the body. They weren’t convinced by the claims of superhuman strength though. That sounds like an example of wartime propaganda; entirely understandable at the time of course, but of no relevance today”

“So, what are you going to do with all this information, guys?”

“Mr Stark has decided not to do anything with the material at present, until we’ve had more time to carry out a more thorough investigation” said Nat, adopting the appropriately “official” tone, “We’ve gathered together most of the components necessary for a sample of the formula, and we have Bucky’s initial research to draw upon. But for the time being, there are just too many unanswered questions. All further work is suspended so that we can concentrate on the hunt for Odinson. There’s nothing more important to our operation than the discovery of that man’s whereabouts”

After the meal, Nat quickly intercepted her friend

“Are you out of your feakin’ mind, Rogers?” she snarled “Where’s all this gung-ho human experiment trash coming from? You’re an accountant for pity’s sake!”

Steve’s shoulders drooped “Promise you’ll not get mad, Nat?”

“Are you kidding, you fuckin’ wierdo?” Nat tapped her foot in mock impatience

“Okay, okay…look, I just…I just feel out of my depth right now, and Bucky’s cracking up in that hospital bed. He can’t stand the separation and, quite frankly, neither can I, neither can the kids”

“Er…that’s not an explanation for your outburst, Rogers, that’s a statement of the bleeding obvious. I’d be more worried if you didn’t feel that way, unless you were some kind of psychopath like Odinson”

Steve winced

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re still worried about Odinson”

“I can’t protect my family, Nat. Look what happened last time. I’m totally unprepared”

“But we’ve got the guards and the limos and the panic…”

“They didn’t work for Bucky the last time” Steve lamented “Relying on Stark Corporation isn’t enough. I need more. I need to do more”

Nat shook her head in disbelief

“When Tony suggested he give you unlimited paid leave, I thought he was doing you a favour” said Nat, an eyebrow raised “Now I’m not so sure”

“Huh?”

“Listen to yourself. You’re going insane obsessing over this. You need to focus your attention on something else”

“Like what?” snorted Steve, cynically

“Well, for a start, every minute you spend thinking about Odinson is a minute you don’t spend thinking about Bucky. Have you ever considered that?”

Steve had the good grace to blush at the revelation

Nat placed her hand on his forearm “So…how is he?”

“He’s fine. Er…actually, no, scrub that. He’s actually not doing so good”

“Go on?”

“Well he spent a long time yesterday doing physical rehabilitation to try and get better, and then he pulled an all-nighter on that research…

“Sounds to me like you’re not the only one obsessing. Jeez, what am I gonna do with the pair of you?”

“I shouldn’t have asked him to do it. He’s as much a perfectionist as I am and I knew he’d not stop until he’d completed those literature searches”

“Maybe, but what about all that rehab? Seems to me that he can work himself into the ground without your assistance… not as if that would have helped” she added, acerbically

“I know, I know…he just wouldn’t stop…and it triggered off these intense spasms of pain…and he was screaming, Nat, he was screaming…God forgive me for what I’ve done”

“What you’ve done? Steven Grant Rogers, you’re one crazy, mixed up little man. And Bucky’s no better. There’s only one cure I know for this chronic lovesickness”

“Oh yeah? What?” sniffled Steve

“I prescribe a big long hospital visit. I’d love to come with you, to see how he’s doing, if you’re happy for me to tag along? I’ll even bring Becca; that should cheer Bucky up!”

-*-

That evening, Bucky was putting on a braver face for the sake of the kids, but – true to his word - Steve was continuing to be honest with them, up to a point.

“Papa said you were hurting really bad this morning” said Clara, sadly

“It’s true sweetheart. I had a new pain I’d never had before and I didn’t know what it was.”

“A new pain?” asked Suzy

“Yes, sweetie. Do you remember when you lost your tooth last month and we put it under the pillow for the tooth fairy?” Suzy nodded “Well, when the tooth was coming out you didn’t like it did you?”

“No, it was icky” she agreed

“And what made it ickier was that you’d never lost a tooth before, so it felt different, and that meant it hurt and it was scary too”

“Oh” exclaimed Suzy “But you didn’t lose a tooth, Mama”

“No, I didn’t sweetie, I lost an arm, and when you lose something big like that which is supposed to be there, then sometimes the nerves around it make you feel that it hurts, even though it isn’t there any more.”

“That sounds bad” said Leo “Can they fix it?”

“Not directly” Bucky answered “But they can give me something that helps take the edge off the pain. It happened because I’d spent a lot of time trying to get better yesterday, moving my body around…and I also did some work on the computer for Papa, and that didn’t help either” Steve blushed self-consciously and Nat kicked the leg of his chair, as a little friendly little reminder of their earlier conversation “But over time, my body will start to get used to not having an arm, and it should happen less”

“Like when my tooth dropped out and it didn’t hurt anymore?” asked Suzy

“Sort of like that. But it’s not called toothache, sweetie. There’s an extra special name for it. It’s called….a phantom pain”

“Ooooooh” cooed Leo and Clara appreciatively

“Does that mean your arm is a ghost, like the Holy Ghost?” queried Clara

Bucky chuckled “No, no sweetie. Not having an arm isn’t very spooky, it has to do with my muscles and nerves and bones…with my skeleton”

“Then I think you should call it your skelington pain from now on” declared Suzy with adorable mispronunciation

“Hey, that sounds kind of neat, I like that” agreed Bucky

“So, skelington pain it is” Steve agreed.

After a few minutes of the kids enjoying their joke, and Becca admonishing her brother for overdoing it, which seemed to greatly amuse Nat, bearing in mind it was a near facsimile of the speech she’d delivered to Steve, they were interrupted by a polite knock at the door

“Mr Banner?”

“Good evening” said the consultant in an almost friendly tone “I’m just off shift, so I thought I’d call in and see how you were doing, Bucky”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Banner. Won’t you please come in?”

Nat looked at her watch “It’s about time we got going anyway. It’s past Suzy’s bedtime as it is”

Suzy pouted a little, but the effect was ruined when she broke into a dramatic yawn

After kissing their Mama goodnight, Becca, Nat and the kids headed back to the visitor’s room to put on their coats and give Steve a few minutes with Bucky.

“Don’t mind me” said Mr Banner, assiduously checking the patient notes at the foot of the bed

“Honestly, Baby. Are you really feeling better?”

“Seeing you and the kids and my sister all at once, has done me the world of good” sighed Bucky contentedly

“And the pain?”

“They’re still working on the dosage. Phantom…sorry…”skelington” pain is quite difficult to estimate apparently. Its intensity can fluctuate quite a lot in the first few months of an amputation.”

“You been doing some more research?” teased Steve

“Maybe a little” grinned Bucky “Dr Erskine taught me a lot, and I’d been thinking of working my way towards being a qualified librarian, but clinical librarianship is way over my head. There’s a lot more I’d need to study before I could even begin to understand medicine.”

“There speaks a wise man” Mr Banner interrupted “Finally someone who appreciates you can’t just Google your way to health”

“I’m flattered” said Bucky “Especially coming from a published analgesia expert such as yourself, Mr Banner”

Banner’s caterpillar eyebrows crawled up his face in surprise

“Don’t you worry” smiled Bucky “Your secret is safe with me”

“You’re an anaesthetics expert?”

“Analgesia” corrected Banner curtly “I focus on reducing pain, not removing consciousness”

“I read your paper on practical applications for trichloroethylene” said Bucky “Some fascinating hypotheses there”

“Once I’ve worked the kinks out of them” conceded Banner

“Hang on, wasn’t that one of the chemicals on my list?”

Bucky nodded “Yes, that’s right. Trichloroethylene is, or rather was, a chemical compound used as an obstetric analgesic from the 1960’s. It had a pleasant smell, was easily absorbed into the bloodstream and extremely effective at dulling pain”

“Only it was a tad too effective” added Banner “It wasn’t safe. So we had to withdraw it”

A lightbulb flicked on over Steve’s head.

“So Mr Banner was working on replacing some of the potentially dangerous solvents with less reactive, more organic compounds, such as chlorophyll”

“As in the green stuff that allows photosynthesis in plants?”

Banner shot Steve a filthy look “This isn’t Biology 101, Mr Rogers”

“Don’t mind me” sniffed Steve “I’m just an accountant”

“That doesn’t exactly enamour you to me either” sneered Banner “I’ve not been able to get any more funding from bean counters like you to continue these trials, so the new compound remains untested”

He snapped the notes file shut “Bucky, I think the analgesic (he looked at Steve pointedly)…you’re being prescribed is appropriate, but I’m going to recommend the dosage is delivered via IV, with an additional self-actuated pump you can control should you get any major spasms - at least for the next week - during your rest periods between rehabilitation.”

“Thank you Mr Banner, it’s very kind of you to come and visit me. And I’m sure these changes will help me feel more comfortable” said Bucky, oozing politeness.

“Good. Well, I’m impressed with your rehabilitation so far, and keep up the research, young man. Goodnight” he concluded stiffly, striding out of the room

“What an asshole!” exclaimed Steve, once he knew Banner was well out of earshot

“That’s Mr. Asshole the famous analgesic consultant, to you” grinned Bucky

“How did you stay so damn nice to him?” Steve asked in wonder

“It’s a gift” Bucky shrugged “That, and he’s in charge of making my pain go away. I’d be nice to practically anyone for that!”

“I wish I could make your pain go away” said Steve, teasing his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair

“Stevie, sweetheart; how many times do I have to tell you. You make me happy beyond any kind of pain. I just need to get home and be with you and the kids. I’m climbing up the walls here”

“I know, I know” groaned Steve, "but I don’t know how I can help"

Bucky blinked. “What do you think you’re doing now, Stevie?”

Steve shifted onto the bed so Bucky could lean against him, gently circling his body into a tender embrace. “I just wish these arms were stronger, Baby, so I could protect you better, that’s all”

Bucky’s sigh was a mixture of joy at Steve’s touch and frustration at the broken record of his words

“Stevie, will you please listen to me? I love you exactly the way you are. I don’t want you to be different. Do you want ME to be different?”

“No” Steve protested hotly, his voice echoing louder than he’d anticipated

“Then stop trying to change for me. You’re the man that I love. You’re the man that I married. You’re my courage and you’re my strength. All I want is to have you back in my life. And you can definitely help me with that”

“I can? How?”

“Well, as I see it, all I need to do is to get strong enough to go home, but I can’t do that if I’m alone and in pain. Clint’s rehabilitation will help me get stronger, Banner’s analgesics with help with the pain, and you, my precious Stevie, are the finest remedy for my loneliness. And the kids of course” he added, with a smile.

Steve planted a kiss on Bucky’s forehead “I love you so much, Baby. You’re so wonderful. Thank you for sharing your life with me”

“Call it even” smiled Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s more than a touch of pseudo-science in this chapter, much of it fantasy. However, Trichloroethylene, known as Trilene, was a real thing. A self-administered analgesic present in many maternity wards during the 1960s and 70s, it was noted for its effectiveness and pleasant aroma. However, there were side effects including foetal toxicity, and – having been identified as a probable carcinogen in the late 1970s, it was all but abandoned for medical use in the following decade. I have personal knowledge of the gas through the testimony of my now late mother who was a midwife during the time of its use in the UK.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For arxiver.

Nearly three weeks passed. Bucky concentrated on his mission and Steve on his. Both doggedly pursued their obsessions, but kept them decently hidden when the kids, Nat and Becca were present. Increasingly, they kept some particulars hidden even when they were alone together. It wasn’t as if an air of distrust had crept into their relationship, so much as that tingly excitable anticipation that happens when two people in love are planning wonderful surprises for each other but don’t want to openly admit it.

Steve pushed himself to be cheerful and loving with Bucky and the family, but he could feel his shoulder blades rising once again. The last time this happened, he’d ignored it, and left it all to the Stark Corporation. He’d been lured into that trap once before; never again.

He should have known. The security measures were becoming routine. There was nothing unusual about the family piling into the back of the limo that afternoon to visit Bucky in the discharge ward. By the end of the week, Mr Banner had predicted that he’d be going home. The way of life they’d adopted since Bucky’s hospitalisation would soon be over. Looking back on it, this was probably the perfect time to strike.

-*-

It was only after they’d entered the hospital car park that Nat caught a glimpse of their driver in the rear view mirror, yanked at the door handle and elbowed a hapless Steve, who was nearest that door, straight out onto the tarmac.

Steve bounced a few yards and landed in an untidy heap, the sleeve of his jacket ripped away. He marched indignantly towards the car, which was now drawing to a halt, to protest at Nat’s rather poor joke. He was oblivious enough to even assume the car had merely backfired until the bullet actually ricocheted by his side. “Steve RUN” screamed Nat hysterically, as Becca pulled her clear of Thor’s sideswipe. The rear door slammed shut.

Steve lingered for a moment in shock, and then all the pieces of the puzzle in his mind clicked neatly into place. He sprinted towards the hospital reception

“Call the police right now” he shouted to the porter on duty “There’s a hostage situation in the car park” He didn’t dare call them himself for fear the authorities would mistake it for a crank call, and he was in too much of a hurry to persuade them otherwise. He bolted up the stairs to the discharge ward and flew into the adjacent laundry room on that floor.

His breathing shallow and panicked, Steve yanked away the paper towels he’d stacked up in the farthest corner of the top shelf and lunged for the messenger bag he’d carefully hidden there. As the glass phials within clinked in protest, he willed himself to slow down. He couldn’t afford for anything else to go wrong now.

-*-

“I don’t understand” protested Nat

“No, sane people never do” Thor responded, in a smoothly casual tone, as he pointed the pistol at her, Becca and the children “Is it that you don’t understand how I came back, or why I came back?”

“I’m guessing you took an overland route to avoid the monitored airports and ferry ports. That must have taken you quite some time”

“Clever girl” chucked Thor, “And yes, it did, but it was well worth it. You see I didn’t achieve my objective last time”

“Murdering Dr Erskine and maiming Bucky weren’t good enough for you, is that it?”

“Oh my dear sweet Russian doll” rumbled Thor “They weren't even the target. I said that I didn’t care about Bucky on that recording you used to sack me from Stark Corporation. Well, I wasn’t lying then, and I’m not lying now.”

“Then why post the bomb to the library?”

Thor laughed again, this time with an added edge of cruelty “Ha! And I had the temerity to say Bucky was as thick as reindeer shit. He’s a genius compared to you” before adding “Bucky is a pointless target. He’s far too easy to take down. But he does make the most delectable bait. Look what we have here? His family, his sister and you…oh and, of course, this”

He pointed to a square metallic box on the passenger seat, connected to a trigger mechanism in his hand. “Anyone tries to get anywhere near this car and we’re all going to heaven in matchboxes”

“You’d actually do that?” Becca gasped

“Why yes, my dear. Don’t you know I’m insane? Of course bumping off you and the kids is simply a…well…a matter of duty. But..” he continued, turning to Nat “Killing YOU, my little vodka-soaked vixen, will be a pleasure, after what you did to my life…

And how will poor tiny Steve feel when he realises he’s not just let his husband down, but his whole family too? Not much of a father was he?”

“You leave Papa alone” spat Leo “You don’t know what you’re saying you…you big bully!”

“Oh” smiled Thor “We have a little lion here. That’s very sweet. A lesson for you, kitten; your folks will always let you down, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon…and for the rest of your life”

“How predictable” sniffed Nat “The crazy man quoting lines from Casablanca”

“You have a point there, of course” admitted Thor “There are so many more apposite films to quote from, mostly on a hostage theme. I suppose Steve will be acting out some pathetically stereotypical TV drama “concerned parent” role on the phone to the police right now, the poor sap. Too bad for him this isn’t a superhero movie”

-*-

With a loud crash, Mr Banner’s office door flew off its hinges. An absolute giant of a man stood before him, seven feet tall, three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and nearly doubled over in excruciating pain.

“Mr Rogers, I presume” mused Banner “I suppose you know I’ll have to bill you for that door?”

“NEED ANAESTHETIC” boomed Steve

“Analgesic, you dunderhead” Banner corrected “And yes, I kind of anticipated we’d be meeting again under these circumstances. I’ve got both versions here. This is the unadulterated trichloroethylene” He held up a phial of blue liquid. “It’s safe-ish in the short term, but you’ll probably be dead within the hour. Or…” He held up a green phial “This is my untested improvement” Steve’s eyes darted between the two “So, what’s your poison? What’ll it be?”

Steve snatched at the untested phial and drained the liquid down.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for saving me the bother of expensive human testing. Your fellow accountants will be delighted”

Steve gasped, the pain rapidly subsiding

“What’ll it do to me?” he grunted

“Well for a start, it’ll turn you a simply delightful shade of chartreuse”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve got eyes, Mr Rogers”

He stared in horror at the cracked mirror screwed to the back of what was left of Banner’s door

“Is…is that bad?”

“How the devil should I know? I’m an anaesthetist, not a dermatologist”

“Analgesic…sist” corrected Steve clumsily as he stomped out of the room

“That’s not even a word” harrumphed Banner

-*-

“I wanna pee” protested Suzy

Thor ran a giant Norse palm down his face

“I REALLY wanna pee” she shrieked

“You kidnap three children, yet you don’t work out any toileting arrangements beforehand?” ventured Nat, arching an eyebrow

“I didn’t think it would take this long for the negotiators to arrive” Thor conceded “But, now I come to think of it, they can’t do their job until they’ve got police backup, and British police aren’t routinely armed” He sighed “So, yes, that was a bit of a miscalculation”

He directed his attention to the four year old year old “I’m sorry young lady, I’m afraid I can’t let you out of the car right now” He tossed his chauffeur’s hat towards Becca. “Erm…could she possibly use…”

Thor never got the chance to finish his sentence. With a terrific crash, one enormous green fist pierced the passenger side window and punched Thor into the middle of next week. He let go of the bomb trigger in shock and Nat instantly pounced on the device in a frenzied attempt to make it safe.

Thor staggered dizzily to his feet in utter disbelief. Stood before him was a giant of a man: taller, wider and a damn sight scarier than he was, and that was without even mentioning his bright green complexion.

“What the…”

A fist punched Thor another twenty yards down the tarmac “See how you like it, Odinson”

“Rogers?”

”I’ve fantasised for a long time about what I’d do to you if I ever saw you again. I hope you enjoy pain”

Thor’s jaw dropped

“What’s the matter, Odinson? Cat got your tongue?”

Thor gulped “Look, I…think I might have made a mistake”

“HA!” spat Steve “You’re the mistake, Odinson. You fuckin’ waste of skin. You thought you could kill my Bucky? Well, I can defend him now! I can defend all of them! You’re gonna learn what happens when you mess with my family, you worm”

Thor tried to block the next punch, but he was no match for Steve’s power. Catapulted off still further, Thor hit the tarmac head first this time. He was out cold.

Steve thundered on towards the prostrate figure, ready to finish the job

“Stop!”

He turned to see Nat by his side.

“It’s over Steve. I’ve diffused Thor’s bomb. He’s unconscious. It’s time for you to let go”

“NO” boomed Steve. “He wanted to kill my babies. He’s gonna die!”

“But you can’t DO that, Steve” Nat protested “You know he has to go on trial, and have his day in court. If you kill him, you’re no better than he is”

“I AM better than he is” growled Steve “I’m stronger than he is. I can protect. I can protect my Bucky, I can protect my family.”

“You always could. You’re a good father, you’re a good protector. Bucky told you so himself”

“Bucky doesn’t understand. He needs a strong man who can protect him”

“Would you just stop and listen to yourself for a damn minute, Rogers?” flashed Nat, losing her temper “Bucky doesn’t want this: he wants his Stevie. Your kids don’t want this: they want their Papa”

“Please” she pleaded “Please just wait for the police to come and arrest him, okay?”

“NO” roared Steve “KILL” With a casual swipe of his hand, he swatted Nat several feet up into the air. She landed with a shuddering crunch to the ground.

“Nat!” screamed Becca.

Steve turned around. Becca was standing protectively around his children, but he couldn’t see it that way

“Get AWAY from my children, stranger” he bellowed, thundering towards her.

Becca stood her ground defiantly “Bucky wouldn’t leave his kids alone, and neither will I. If you’re going to kill my Nat, then you can go ahead and finish me as well. But these are my brother’s children, so they’re MY children too.” Becca drew the kids to her as tightly as she could as Steve closed the gap between them.

As Steve raised his fist. Leo broke cover and, at the top of his lungs, yelled “GO AWAY, STEPFATHER!”

That dreadful fear-streaked word screamed from the voice of traumatised child.

Steve was stopped in his tracks, momentarily dazed out of the fever in his power-drunk mind.

For once, the timing was perfect.

With a faint whoosh of air, the tranquiliser dart pierced Steve’s skin with surgical precision through an exposed stretch of jugular vein. For a few seconds, he staggered backwards, desperately clawing at his neck, before crashing seismically to the floor.

“Bulls-eye!” cheered Clint.

From his position on the hospital roof, Bucky the stealthy sharp-shooter grinned right back, and laid down his rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avast! Here be more psuedoscience. Please see previous chapter for a more detailed explanation, me hearties!  
> Why the devil am I talking like a pirate today? Must be that Rum and coke...


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for arxiver

Steve nervously edged a finger around the inside of his collar. Ever since the incident, he’d felt a trifle too big for his clothes. Perhaps the chemicals had bulked him up just a little bit, but then it could just have easily been the effect of Bucky’s cooking, now that he was back home with the family.

He’d probably need to lose a few pounds if that was the case, as this was his best shirt, worn in honour of Becca and Nat today. It was only after Nat was recovering from the broken arm Steve had given her, that Bucky’s sister finally revealed why Nat had taken her to the hospital so often to see him. They were an item. Becca duly proposed at Nat’s hospital bed. It would have been so charming, had Steve not felt a complete jerk for breaking Nat’s arm in the first place. Rest assured that she’d never tire of reminding him of that incident.

Steve had worked long and hard to accumulate all the chemicals necessary to replicate Dr Erskine’s formula. He’d thought he was pretty clever. But not nearly as clever as Bucky, who had expertly anticipated Steve’s moves and not only ceaselessly practiced on the shooting range, but worked tirelessly with Mr Banner to devise a chemical compound that would both reverse the formula’s effect and safely anaesthetise (Banner would doubtless approve of the correct usage) Steve’s not-so-jolly green giant show.

Tony heard about everything of course. Highly amused by Nat’s relation of how Bucky had saved the day by actually shooting Steve, he set about using Stark Corporation’s benign influence to ensure that none of the CCTV hospital images ever saw the light of day, whilst shredding Dr Erskine’s dangerous formulae into oblivion.

“You’re looking a lot better now, Stevie” smiled Bucky, taking Steve’s hand in his as they watched the kids chase after each other in the reception area. “Though I’ll kinda miss your painted nails when they’re gone” he grinned. Steve groaned wearily.

For a few days, the chlorophyll residue lingered, leaving Steve the appropriate shade of contrition to repeatedly apologise to his kids. Leo took quite some convincing that Papa had been under the influence of a mind-control drug, but Clara, always the peace-maker, had been able to help smooth things over. It didn’t harm that this coincided with Mama’s long-awaited homecoming, marked with a fun little ritual where he was ceremonially re-invested in the order of the hideous house-coat (now with the left arm tactfully sewn up). Shortly afterwards, Dr Erskine’s beautiful eagle-topped Grandfather clock arrived, taking pride of place in their family home.

However, although Steve’s skin returned to normal within the week, his finger and toe nails retained their livid shade of chartreuse for a further month. Bucky, Becca and Nat all took it in turns to tease Steve mercilessly about his “painted nails”

“It’s a shame all I was left with was the nails” bemoaned Steve “I’d have loved to have kept that six-pack for you, Baby”

“Pah” Bucky waved away the notion dismissively “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, Stevie, I love you exactly the way that you are. You’re the man that I married. I didn’t say “I do” to some inconsiderate beefcake. I shared my life with someone who truly protects and cares for me and for our family. I think you were crazy to have swallowed that potion to do it, but it proves you’re the most wonderful, loving and courageous man ever to walk the face of this earth, and so I’m proud of you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“You’ve got to stop delivering those kick-ass speeches, Baby” sniffed Steve “You’re gonna have me crying before we even get to your sister’s “I do’s”

“Oh you’ll be crying all right, Stevie. Once Nat and I are relatives, you’ll never stand a chance!”

Steve shrugged good-naturedly “I’m happy to take a few knocks, Buck, because I finally understand what I’ve not been able to get through this thick skull of mine these last three years”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow

“That even though I’m a crazy, mixed-up little man, you’re happy with who I am, and you’re happy with my love. And I love you so, so much for that. Thank you, Baby”

“Call it even” smiled Bucky

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! This particular Steve and Bucky AU will return one final time in "Force of arms"  
> Warning, this concluding part of the series covers more adult themes and will be classified as "Mature"


End file.
